CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(i\Aonographs) 


ICMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Cansdian  InsthuM  for  Historical  Microraproductiona  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductioni  hittoriquas 


1995 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  l>est  original 
copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


IZf 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 


<     I  Covets  damaged  / 

' — I  Couverture  endomm^gve 

I     I  Cove  s  restored  and/or  laminated  / 

' — '  Couvi  irture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicula 

I     I  Cover  title  missing  /  Le  litre  de  couverture  manque 

I     I  Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  gtographiques  en  couleur 

r^  Coloured  Ink  (i.e.  nther  than  t)lue  or  black)/ 

'^^  Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

rr/  Coloured  plates  and/or  lllustiations  / 

"^  Planches  et/ou  Illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I  Bound  with  other  material  / 

' — '  Rail*  avee  d'autres  documents 


D 
D 


D 


D 


Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Edition  disponlble 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  Interior  margin  /  La  rellure  serrie  peut 
causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorskin  le  long  de 
la  marge  Int^neure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restacatkxis  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajoutees  lors  d'une  restauratlon 
apparaissent  dans  le  texle,  mais,  kirsque  cela  6M 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  Mi  film^es. 


Addttional  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exampiaire  qu'il  lui  a 
ete  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exam- 
piaire qui  sont  peut-£tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  blbli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  Image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m6th- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  Indiqu6s  cl-dessous. 

I     I     Cotoured  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

I     I     Pages  damaged/ Pages endommagSes 

I     I      Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '     Pages  restaurSes  et/ou  pelltaul^es 

[^     Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  dicolor^es,  tachettes  ou  piquies 

I     I      Pages  detached/ Pages  dStaohSes 

n^    Showthrough/ Transparence 

I     I      Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualit^  inigale  de  Timpression 

I     I     Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprsnd  du  materiel  suppiamentaire 

I  I  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  returned  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  Image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  partiellement  obscurcles  par  un 
feull!et  d'errata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  6te  fllmtes 
i  nouveau  de  fapon  a  obtenir  la  mellleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolouratlons  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  dteol- 
orations  sont  filmtes  deux  fols  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  image  possible. 


This  ittfll  it  filmad  at  th«  riduction  ratio  diackad  balow/ 

Cc  docufmnt  Ht  filma  au  uux  dc  reduction  indiqui  ci-dtssout. 


10X 

14X 

" 

18X 

22X 

26X 

XX 

J 

12X 

1CX 

»x 

2«X 

' 

78  X 

h^H^ 

^ 

171t 

Th«  copy  fltmad  hara  hu  baan  raproducad  thanki 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  film*  ful  raproduil  grica  t  la 
gtntroiit*  da: 

Blbllotheque  natlonale  du  Canada 


Tha  imagaa  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
poMibIa  considaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  Icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  tpaclficationa. 


Original  eopiaa  In  printad  papar  eovara  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  with  tha  front  eovar  and  ariing  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  llluatra.4d  Impraa- 
(ion.  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  eopiaa  ara  fllmad  baglnning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuttratad  impraa- 
•ion.  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  llluatratad  imprasaion. 


Tha  last  raeordad  frama  on  aach  mieroficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  —^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"!, or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"), 
whiehavar  appiias. 

Mapa,  plataa.  charts,  ate.  may  ba  fllmad  at 
diffsrant  rsduction  ratios.  Thoso  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  anposura  ara  fllmad 
baglnning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  as  many  framas  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  llluatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Las  Imagas  sulvantas  ont  M  raproduitas  avac  la 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  »n 
Gonformit*  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  aaamplalraa  originaux  dont  la  couvarturs  an 
paplar  aat  Imprimta  sont  fllmis  an  commancani 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarmlnant  soil  par  la 
darnMra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  ampraints 
d'Impraasion  ou  d'lllustration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  cas.  Tous  laa  autras  axamplairas 
originaui  sont  tllmis  an  commandant  par  la 
pramltra  paga  qui  comporto  una  amprainta 
d'Impraasion  ou  d'lllustration  at  an  tarmlnant  par 
la  darnMra  paga  qui  eomporta  una  taiia 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  aymboiaa  sulvanta  tpparattra  sur  la 
darnitra  imaga  da  chaqua  microfiche,  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  —»■  signifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symbola  V  signifia  "FIN". 

Las  cartas,  planchas.  tablaaui.  ate.  peuvant  itra 
filmto  *  daa  taux  da  rMuction  difftrants. 
Lorsqua  la  document  est  trap  grand  pour  itra 
reproduit  en  un  saul  clichi.  II  est  flime  1  partir 
da  I'angia  suptrieur  gauche,  de  gauche  t  droite. 
et  de  haut  an  bas.  en  prenant  la  nombra 
d'imagas  nteessaira.  Lee  diagrammas  suivsnts 
illustrent  la  methoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

»MC»OCOfY   IISOIUTION   IBT  CHA»T 

l*NSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHA«T  No.  2) 


1.25 


|£    H2.0 
1.8 


APPLIED  IVHGE     In 

leSJl  Eoil   Uain  S*- 

Rocheiter,   Na*  Yl  jo       usa 

(716)  482 -0300- 

(716)   280  -  5909  -  K 


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7^ 


CHATS  BY  THE  FIRESIDE 

A  STUDY  IN  LIFE.  ART  AND  LITERATURE 

lY 

THOMAS  O'HAGAN,  PH.  D. 

Author  of  "Studies  in  Poetry,"  "Canadian  Essays," 
"Essays  Literary,  Critical  id  Historical,"  "In 
Dreamland,"  "Songs  of  tf     Settlement,"  etc. 


^ 


THI  lOSAir  PUSS,  PUBUSHEiS 
SOMasCT,  OHO 


/^' 


09412981 


DEDICATION 


To  the  Rev.  Albert  Reinhart,  O.  P., 
late  editor  of  the  Rosary  Magazine  and 
translator  of  Father  Denifle's  "Luther 
and  Lutheranism"  —  wise  Counsellor, 
sympathetic  Critic  and  true  Friend, 
I  affectionately  inscribe  this  volume. 
The  Attthok. 


FOBEWOBD 


The  "Chats"  contained  in  this  Uttle  volume 
have  appeared  during  the  past  two  years  in  the 
columns  of  the  New  World,  of  Chicago,  and  the 
Catholic  Register,  of  Toronto,  Ontario.  They 
have  been  written  in  the  few  leisure  moments 
that  come  to  a  busy  editor  whose  journalistic 
duties  shut  out  the  heaven  of  dreams.  The 
author  would  fain  hope  that  these  informal 
"Chats"  may  prove  helpful  and  suggestive  to 
teachers  and  students  who  manifest  an  interest 
in  "Life,  Art  and  Literature." 

Thomas  O'Hagan. 

"The  New  World,"  Chicago,  May  3d,  191 1. 


EDUCATION 


CERTAIX   EDUCATIONAL 
DEFICIENCIES 


V    ET  me  here  chat  with  my  readers  as  to  cer- 
"^    tain   defects  that   mark  the  educational 
systems  of  America.    I  say  systems,  for  has  not 
each  province  in  Canada,  and  each  State  in  the 
Union,  an  educational  system  peculiar  to  itself? 
There  is  one  defect  which  marks  the  educational 
work  in  well-nigh  every  part  of  America,  and 
that  is  lack  of  thoroughness,  and  this  is  largely 
due  to  the  haste  with  which  studies  are  taken 
up,  pursued  and  completed. 
«     *    * 
The  desire  to  graduate  and  mingle  in  the 
affairs  of  life  is  so  keen  amongst  us  here  in 
America  that  we  are  unwilling  to  undergo  pa- 
tient preparation  for  the  duties  that  fall  to  our 
hands  in  the  various  walks  of  life.    We  would 
fain  assume  the  responsibility  of  life  and  share 
in  its  financial  rewards  long  before  we  have 
served  our  intellectual  apprenticeship,  and  so 
we  often  see  our  young  men  and  women  face 
the  world  and  gird  on  their  swords  for  its 
battles  while  they  are  yet  raw  recruits  intel- 
lectually.    Indeed,  it  is  amazing  what  super- 
ficiality marks  much  of  the  so-called  scholar- 
ship of  our  day. 


Nor  18  It  m  the  primary  school,  that  this  defi- 
ciency ,s  most  marked.  It  is  found  in  the  classic 
halls  of  our  great  universities.  Men  have  rab- 
bled their  way  through  the  B.  A.,  and  even  the 

,•  "•  "^oufes.  and  have  come  out  with  unde- 
veloped mmds,  little  culture  and  no  power. 
They  have  simply  been  stuffed  and  spoon-fed 
and  have  done  no  thinking  for  themselves, 
rhey  have  a  smattering  of  a  great  many  things 
and  nothing  thorough. 


I  myself  have  heard  professors  lecture  to 
graduate  students  in  universities  who  lacked 
both  true  and  sound  sr'.olarship,  as  well  as  the 
rnore  important  thing  still-inspiration.  Again 
the  specialism  of  the  last  twenty  years  has 
played  havoc  with  broad  scholarship.  Men 
have  been  studying  the  Roman  Empire  and 
Media:yal  France  till  they  have  forgotten  how 
to  spell  or  frame  correctly  in  speech  a  logical 
sentence.  Listen  to  these  men  lecture  and 
what  incorrect  and  slipshod  English  they  use. 
ITiey  are  so  bent  in  pursuit  of  the  historical  fact 
that  they  pay  no  heed  to  the  correct  expression 
of  thought,  as  if  that,  too,  did  not  belong  to 
scholarship.  •    •    » 

No  wonder  that  in  such  institutions  of  learn- 
ing as  Wellesley  College  the  faculty  have  de- 
manded of  the  giris  that,  in  future,  in  order  to 
graduate,  they  must  be  able  to  spell.    The  truth 


II  that  in  this  country  we  are  too  fond  of  dis- 
play.   All  our  goods  are  in  the  window  and 
very  Irttle  in  the  shop.    We  should  aim  more 
at  true  and  solid  scholarship  and  less  at  display. 
*    *    • 
Why,  for  insUnce,  should  a  young  man  be 
permitted  to  enter  the  medical  profession  until 
he  has  first  received  a  libera!  education?    This 
country  has  passed  out  of  the  formative  condi- 
tion and  should  now  gird  up  its  loins  and  be 
satisfied    with    only    the    highest    ideals    and 
supreme    excellence    in    everything.      Granted 
that  we  are  still  walled  in  by  the  material,  should 
not  our  ideals  overcome  this  and  set  before  our 
lives  such  a  high  standard  that  neither  medi- 
ocrity nor  presumption   can   enter  our   scho- 
lastic gates  ?  *    »    ♦ 

The  generosity  of  our  people  has  builded 
libraries  at  our  door,  but  how  few  are  the  seri- 
ous students  amongst  us.  We  skim  the  morn- 
ing and  evening  papers  and,  perhaps,  read  one 
of  the  "six  best  sellers,"  but  we  never  think  of 
dipping  into  the  tomes  of  wisdom  that  the 
genius  of  man  has  bequeathed  us.  So  we  live 
day  by  day  on  the  chaflF  and  chips  of  ephemeral 
scribbling.  *    *    » 

How  delightful,  indeed,  it  is  to  meet  with  a 
lover  of  good  books  and  the  wisdom  packed 
between  their  covers!  Such  a  one  grows  intel- 
lectually, npens  in  the  things  of  the  mind  and 


becomes  truly  cultured.  Aa  Carlyle  aaid,  a 
library  is  a  true  university,  but  how  few  get  the 
best  out  of  that  university  I  If  they  did  we 
would  forget  to  enquire  what  had  been  their 
courses  in  the  schools.  We  have  all  poetry,  we 
have  all  art,  we  have  all  history,  which  is  a  rec- 
ord of  the  activities  of  man ;  we  have  the  wis- 
dom of  the  world's  greatest  thinkers,  and  vet 
we  profit  little  by  these  princes  of  genius~^in 
our  blindness  eating  the  husks  strewn  by  the 
wayside,  forgetful  ever  of  the  rich  banquet  so 
carefully  prepared  for  us. 


13 


CATHOLIC  AND  8ECULAR  COL- 
LEGES CONTRASTED 


'Kl  OW  that  our  colleges  have  begun  work 
*^  and  our  students  are  enrolled,  it  is  well 
for  us  to  take  an  inventory  of  the  educational 
conditions  of  our  day.  for  education  in  itself  is 
one  of  the  chief  factors  not  only  in  the  fashion- 
ing of  our  lives  but  in  the  promotion  of  our 
temporal  and  spiritual  happiness. 

Indeed,  we  little  dream  how  great  a  share 
education  has  in  shaping  the  character  of  our 
civilization  and  creating  for  it  ideals,  towards 
which  and  in  the  attainment  of  which  humanity 
strives  and  reaches  and  crowns  its  labors  with 
achievement  and  success. 

*    *     * 

Catholic  education  and  secular  education  are 
broadly  differentiated  in  the  fact  that  the  former 
emphasizes  the  things  of  the  soul,  while  the  lat- 
ter emphasizes  the  things  of  the  mind.  In  every 
land  where  the  Catholic  Church  builds  a  school 
or  a  college,  its  first  thought  is  the  spiritual  wel- 
fare of  the  student.  In  this  it  does  not  in  the 
least  minimize  the  importance  of  the  intellect, 
but  it  rightfully  places  above  ali  knowledge  the 
knowledge  of  God. 

13 


•tnkingr  difference  in  the  character  of  the  in- 

Catholic  College,  I  .hould  .ay  that  i>  the  Cath- 

Tnl';    K  •*'  "•*  "'"''"'  "  '•"?•'«  '0  di.crim. 
nate  between  truth  and  falsehood-he  i.  not 

fir.       ■  '"V^  "[  '"°''  "^'h  '»•  """ring  false 
■»ht.,  a,  „  the  .tudent  in  the  non-Cthol*  CoN 

an^'wT      ""  ^''"'  ""yt»"«?  «nd  anythmg 
ML7u°"J'f"'°'  "'  i«.tructor,  wandering 

cuss    This  IS  false  and  that  is  true." 
•    •    • 
In  no  department,  therefore,  is  the  non-Cath- 

»hl?    <!^'  '^r"''  "  '"  "•*  d«P»rtn.cnt  of 
philosophy     Philosophy  in  its  final  analysis  is 
correct  thinking,  but  in  non-Catholic  College. 
tT*h  ^^It  "  ."° /*'°8nition  of  absolute  truth 
the  best  that  IS  done  in  the  courses  in  philos- 

o? ti'ooT^ Ur'"'^'''  ";«  ^'"°'»  Systems 
ri,.»  ,  philosophy.    It  is  evident,  then, 

*?ue  to  r*  '"  '""'•  'f'^'  '»  °f  bui  little 
value  to  the  young  mind  seeking  for  laws  and 
principles  of  correct  thinking,  which  laT^r  on 
may  safety  guide  his  footsteps  throu^  the 
mazes  and  perplexities  of  life's  problemf 
*    *    * 

if  Z^wm  T"  '°  v'  '••P'^rtment  of  letters  or, 
"  you  will,  humanities,  we  have  much  to  be 

14 


thankful  for  »l(o  in  our  Catholic  Collegei.  Now 
all  literature  is  but  a  reflection  of  life  and  indeed 
were  la  nothing  in  all  art  but  what  ii  in  life. 
For  what  it  art  but  life  idealized,  and  the  baiii 
of  all  idealization  is  truth. 


Since,  then,  literature  is  but  a  reflection  of  life 
we  may  naturally  expect  it  to  mirror  t.M  the 
errors  and  falsehoods  of  life.    For  instance,  the 
poet  builds  a  great  poem,  but  based  on  false 
philosophy,   as   in   the   case,   for  instance,   of 
Pope's  "Essay  on  Man,"  or  Tennyson's  "In 
Memoriam,"  which  simply  reflect  the  philos- 
ophy of  Bolingbroke  and  the  mingling  of  doubt 
and  faith  and  pantheism  of  the  philosophers  ol 
the  first  half  o«  the  nineteenth  century,  under 
whose  influence  the  poet  Tennyson  fell. 
•     ♦    * 
All  this,  woven  in  the  splendid  and  memory- 
clinging  couplets  of  Pope  or  the  divine  music 
of  Tennyson,  is  accepted  by  the  non-Catholic 
professor  and  student  without  any  protest— in- 
deed little  heed  is  paid  to  the  truth  or  falsehood 
of  the  teaching,  the  mind  of  professor  and  class 
being  surrendered  to  the  vital  beauty  and  power 
of  the   poem.     Of  course   it   should  be  here 
stated  that  much  of  the  informing  thought  of 
Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam"  may,  without  re- 
serve, be  also  accepted  by  any  Catholic. 

IS 


I  hold  here  that  what  is  strongest,  best,  most 
enduring  and  absolutely  essential  in  all  Z, 
English  poetry  is  Catholic,  as  indeed  any  life- 

a-Ch  s  h'^-";"^  '^  '"-"^^  -  non-Catho^ 
Uiurches  has  its  warmth  because  of  its  bor- 
rowed spiritual  fire  from  the  Catholic  Altar  I 
need  not  here  appeal  to  Catholic  truths  modified 
or  believed  in  part  by  various  Ourches. 

'!=        *        # 

We  Catholics  have  the  full  warmth  of  God's 

fo^td'''";'"''  ^""'  "'^''^  '»'""  -^-  the  bor- 
rowed or  lesser  ra,.  that  light  up  but  httle  cor- 
ners Hence  it  .s  that  all  art  is  ours-sculpture 
architecture,  painting,  music.  The  saints  too 
are  ours,  with  whom  we  can  commune  The 
Mother  of  God  is  of  our  household  and  we  hive 
arh^me^"^  '"'  '"  "'^'"^  ^°"  '"  °-  "-«: 


i6 


SOME   EUROPEAN   UNIVERSITIES 


7*  TALK  about  some  universities  of  Europe 
•■     may  be  of  interest  to  my  readers.    They 

the mrr  !,'''°"^''  '^'  ""*"""-  ""^  -"any  o^ 

nons  to  the  munificence  and  patronage  of  the 
Popes  of  the  Middle  Ages,  for  the  Catholic 
Church  at  all  times  has  been  an  enlightened 
promoter   of  the   arts  and   sciences   and   has 
freely  and  generously  encouniged  the  advance 
ment  of  learnmg  among  the  ,^ople. 
»     •     ♦ 
The  three  most  ancient  universities  in  Europe 

and  ,t  .s  difficult  to  say  just  when  they  recehTed 

>hJT  ^''^''■■^"<^h  allege  with  much  pride 
that  It  was  a  colony  of  scholars  from  Paris  Uni! 
vers,ty  that  established  Oxford  University  In- 
deed these  two  great  mediaeval  universitfes  be- 
^n  then-  work  almost  contemporaneous Iv  and 
the,r  mfluence  upon  medi^valrfe  and  culture 
cannot  be  overestimated.  culture 

»     *    * 

I  have  said  that  Paris,  Oxford  and  Rnl ., 

were  the  first  European  univir^ie's  yef.S 

•7 


law.    I»  this  re,„.^  P  ^  "  ''°""^'  '"  R°"««n 

courts  tha/prenc'-Ha^^^^^^^^^^^ 
ten'danceTt"r  *":.""'"''"  °f  students  i„  at- 

18 


ber  of  men  eminent  in  science  and  letters  in 
France  have  been  educated  at  this  ancient  seat 
of  learning.  It  is,  however,  best  known  to-day 
for  its  courses  in  medicine. 
*  ♦  • 
There  are  in  all  sixteen  universities  in  France, 
and  of  course  Paris  is  the  crown  of  all  these, 
since  nearly  everything  that  is  great  in  hterature 
and  art  is  centralized  in  the  gay  and  beauteous 
French  capital.  I  was  going  to  say  that  the 
other  fifteen  universities  don't  count — at  least 
not  with  great  scholars.  This,  I  think,  is  a  pity. 
No  one  university  in  any  country  should  pos- 
sess a  monopoly  of  education — it  should,  rather, 
be  freely  distributed. 


In  Germany,  for  instance,  Berlin  Univrsity 
has  no  such  monopoly.  Heidelberg  and  Bonn 
and  Munich  have  professors  quite  as  eminent  as 
those  of  Berlin,  while  Paris  decoys  away  and 
holds  all,  or  nearly  all,  the  professors  of  national 
reputation  in  France.  Of  course,  for  the  study 
of  such  a  special  subject  as  Celtic,  the  Univer- 
sity of  Rennes,  in  the  heart  of  Brittany,  and  the 
University  of  Poitiers  stand  preeminent. 
*    *    * 

Among  the  universities  of  Europe  to-day  dis- 
tinctly Catholic,  Louvain,  in  Belgium,  stands,  I 
think,  easily  at  their  head.  Indeed,  Louvain  is 
the  strongest  and  best  organized  university — 

»9 


in  it  That  I  could  not  finT"^''"!"  '""^  '°''*'y 
a  credit  to  CathoHc  ,rh  .""r''"*  ''*«•  I'  '» 
the  support  onr^n'ofet^H^e  w"oVd"*^-^ 

of  very  disUnmiishln  J  ?        ^*  ''^^  =  ""'"ber 

seriouLndS  chalet  rrilK,'  '"""t  ''  =• 
■s  here   that   the   brimfnf    n        "  ""^''-    I' 

Mandonnet  leetu^es'^r  cJur'^hTrr;.  """" 

•     »     * 

Unt'rsitrilThe'Tf;'/"  ^^'"'°"  ^"-''™^'' 
and  theolo^ial  department,  °''  P!:"°^°Phical 
that  able  b?dy  ofXTtors  Z  S"h  °' 
PopTs!  {  c^;ured- ,rr tl'  "^^  his't^n'-oS: 
medical  school  orth?7  T"".  ^""'^  ""^ 
If    not   as    farlfatras'X  "ot  v?'^"^''^ 

Lille,  which  has  always  stonH  I  ^"'^""^^  °' 
in  the  depart.ent^^Kr.Lrlte"''"'^"^ 


30 


VOYAGING  TO  EUROPE 
AND  TIPPING 


VOYAGING  TO  EUROPE 


LET  m«  chat  with  my  readers  about  voy- 
aging to  Europe.  For  many  years  it 
had  been  my  ambition  to  cross  the  ocean — to 
tempt  the  tempests  of  the  deep.  I  must  confess 
that  I  found  it  a  very  pleasant  experience.  Of 
course  your  pleasure  will  depend  a  good  deal 
on  the  character  of  the  ship's  passengers.  If 
they  are  social,  genial,  wellbred  people  you  are 
likely  in  for  a  good  time,  but  they  may  happen 
to  be  a  dull,  uncouth — I  was  going  to  say  un- 
civilized crowd.        «     »    » 

I  have  had  one  experience  a  little  strange  in 
my  different  trips  to  Europe — the  going  there 
has  always  been  pleasant,  while  usually  the  re- 
turning has  been  disagreeable.  Not  only  have  I 
always  been  caught  in  an  ocean  storm  while 
returning,  but  the  social  side  of  the  return  trip 
has  always  disappointed  me.  Perhaps  this  is 
owing  to  the  fact  that  every  mind  is  in  opti- 
mistic tension  when  voyaging  to  Europe  be- 
cause of  the  expected  pleasures  ahead,  while  on 
the  return  trip  a  surfeit  of  sightseeing  has 
cloyed  the  mind  and  rendered  it  not  open  to 
social  pleasures. 

23 


'f  you  wm,  Ikii^/JtuU  '"  "1'="'°^^  '-'■ 

gers.  Every  one  ^  /^  *^'  °'  ""  P'"*"" 
who.  An  hour  or  I  T""'  '°  ''"°*  *ho  is 
ing  is  done    A  na,r  ""'' "»«"y  'he  catalogu- 

near.,  a>,  classes  of  peop.e  arrlUt'tedtt 

bee'n^^eetAt  fo"rfe^^  ^/"^'P'.  "- 
dike,  returning  w°h  a  eood  /.?""'"''"  ^'°"- 
and  experience^  thangold  He  tlT''  ^"'?"' 
gazing  at  tl,e  passengers  as  th"        °^^^^^^^ 

":^cH]::Sd^f'^^"""-ri!:! 
-rSte^iiry-pz-v^'^^ 

finished  their  course  at  colW^  ''!,"^'''"^  have 
the  culture  that  cl:  roX",  "th"''"^ 
Pect  to  visit  all  the  art  n.\,7  f  U  ^''^y  ««- 
get  on  good  term'  w?th  R  '^'  °  ^"'"''P^  ""^ 
and  Murillo  and  T  tian  ^^T'!!'  ""^  ^"^"^^ 
the  two  girls  will':e™ain'];"pl';isTT°' 
her  studies  in  painting,  for  whth  ,h  1  ""^ 
particular  talent  and  talie.  '''  ''^  = 

24 


Here  at  our  elbow  is  an  Exile  of  Erin— 
not  exactly  such  a  one  as  Thomas  Campbell, 
the  Scotch  poet,  met  at  Antwerp  when  he 
penned  those  touching  lines  so  creditable  to  his 
sympathy  and  genius— but  rather  an  exile  of 
Erin  who  has  prospered  in  the  land  of  the 
Maple  and  who  now,  absent  from  his  father- 
land for  forty  years,  is  returning  to  the  cradle 
of  his  fathers  beside  the  Shannon,  with  all  its 

historic  memories. 

>(■     *     « 

Then,  of  course,  we  have  on  board  a  type 
of  the  young  lady  who  is  going  abroad  bent' on 
conquest.  She  has  already  catalogued  all  the 
"nice"  young  men  on  board  and  she  very  soon 
starts  shooting  her  arrows.  Usually  her  first 
catch,  as  she  carelessly  and  recklessly  throws 
her  bait,  is  a  univeriity  graduate,  wearing  a 
soft  sophomore  look  and  a  pair  of  well-adjusted 
eye-glasses.  Their  accidental  acquaintance  is 
a  kind  of  an  overture  to  the  whole  varied  per- 
formance that  is  to  follow.  Eight  days  of  in- 
termittent friendship  on  the  ocean  and  then 
even  the  mysterious  deep  knows  all  the  secrets 
of  the  twain. 


25 


ON  TIPPING 


J  ^^T.?  r°'''  ^''^  "ly  readers  on  the  subject 
"  of  tipping"  which  obtains  so  lareelv  in 
every  country  of  Europe.  The  French  call  it 
Pourboire  and  the  Germans  "Trinkgeld  " 
Every  tourist  from  America  who  visits  Eurooe 

It^LTu''"?'  **""  "  '"""»'  however  f?r! 
eipwnay  be  the  word  to  him.    It  has  become 

tne  Old  World  and   we  are  not   without  its 
Tern-e-h^^e'""'"-'''""^'' '•'----" 

•         •         • 

I  know  nothing,  I  must  confess,  of  its  jririn 
but  like  all  venerable  customs  I  suppos.  i  fan 
be  traced  back  to  the  time  of  the  Caesars  and 
perhaps  this  is  the  original  meaning  of  ''Render 
unto  Caesar  the  things  that  are  CaesarV"  1 
IS  not  too  much  to  say  that  "tipping"  supports 

resoectb.r-    '"  ,^1!^°^"     ''  ''  a^i„d"S  a 
respectable  way  of  begging-a  degree  higher 

St  a  tT  ""'""  '"^"rf-ancy,  but  fo  the   our- 
ist  a  degree  more  annoying. 

•     •     • 
Of  course  "tipping"  obtains  in  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland,  but  it  has  reached  the  subtlety  of 
26 


a  science  in  Italy  and  France.  However,  in 
such  countries  as  Ireland  and  Italy  it  is  sur- 
rounded with  such  tact  and  good  nature  on  the 
part  of  the  petitioner  that  you  feel  it  almost 
a  pleasure  to  give.  There  is  a  very  charm  in 
the  manner  in  which  an  Irish  guide  can  coax 
money  out  of  you.  He  never  lets  you  know 
what  he  is  after— chloroforming  your  senses 
with  the  graciousness  of  hi?  tongue  and  the 
sweet  palaver  of  his  compliments,  till  the  first 
thing  you  know  you  have  well  nigh  emptied 
your  pockets  into  his. 

•  *  * 
The  Italian  does  his  work  by  a  kind  of 
strategy  and,  though  you  may  have  a  suspi  rion 
that  he  is  following  the  trail,  you  hate  to  draw 
him  away  from  the  scent  of  his  game.  Then 
of  course  he  is  a  descendant  of  Marcus  Tullius 
Cicero  and  Brutus  and  Romulus  and  Eneas, 
and  you'd  feel  ashamed  to  ignore  such  ;n-' 
cestors  in  the  Italian  suide  of  to-day,  who  is 
ever  ready  to  point  out  to  you  all  the  re- 
mains of  Roman  glory. 


The  "tipping"  in  Austria  is  very  general I 

think  more  so  than  in  any  other  country  of 
Europe.  No  matter  how  small  may  be  the  out- 
lay, you  are  supposed  to  add  something  as  a 

27 


tip.    Th«t  If  the  reaion  that  every  "Kcllnerin  " 
or  waitre...  ,„  ,he  dual  Empire  i.  able,  Mter  a 

[',7,  ^  aT   ""'''=••  '°  •"  "P  »>«'""•  'o'  her- 
•elf.    After  ..x  or  .even  yearn  a.  waitre..  she 

tune  InH   h'"'""?"«'\""P'"  """'«  »  "«'<  'or- 

owV  h^olc  • "  *'  '"'• '°  '"^"  "•"'" O"  "- 

•    »    • 

I  shall  never  forget  an  experience  I  once 
had  .n  the  historic  city  of  St.  Malo  in  Brittany 
Travchng  ,„  my  care  was  a  young  man  who 
had  as  yet  had  no  experience  with  European 
ways^  Amving  at  St.  Malo  early  in  the  morn- 
'ng.  by  boat  from  Southampton  in  England,  we 
took  up  our  quarters  in  the  leading  hole'  of 
the  oty-^ne  which  catered  a  greai  deal  to 
English  tourists.  The  good  lady-for  Madame 
IS  supreme  in  a  French  hotel  -  thought  we 
would  remain  as  her  guests  for  at  least  a  week 
and  consequently  gave  us  reduced  rates.     But 

ind  Ch^f^/  r  "7.""  "'^  °'  J'^"""  Cartier 
w^fh  „,  "^  ?"''  ''""^  ""^  '"  "d  "nd  forth- 
thl  Pr°^"'^«d  «°  P>y  our  bu.3  and  press  on 
^rough  Brittany.  Madame  was  in  consequence 
disappointed,  and  as  she  presented  the  bill  "he 
simultaneously  touched  a  button,  and!  pres  o  I 

maids  stood  around  us  as  a  bodyguard,  lest  we 
should  suffer  violence  at  the  handTof  the  hous*! 
38 


.  door  r  ^  '  "*u"''  '°"«'"  "'"«'  t-hind 
.  door-I  ,uppo,e  that  he  might  witne.,  how 
I  woHld  behave  under  ,uch  heavy  fire.  But  T 
had  been  m  a  few  engagement,  before  and.  hav- 
'ng  tipped  one  waiter  and  one  chambermaid 
we  .ought  refuge  in  the  bus  that  wa.  to  convey 
u«  to  the  station.  ^ 

•    *    * 

I  have  a  tingling  memory  of  a  Venetian 
gx..de  who  once  proffered  me  his  service!  to 
.^,f  r"  f,  t""^"  •*"  '="'y""'hian  streets  of 

e  so  'f  ;  ''"'''  ^'-  ^"'''-  The  streets 
a.e  so  full  of  intricate  windings  that  1  think 
we  must  have  walked  well  nigh  five  miles  be 
fore  we  reached  our  objective  point.  Ever 
afterward.  I  took  a  gondola.  Venicr  i.  not 
for  pedestrians.    My  guide  certainly  earned  his 

of  black  bread  and  wine.  He,  too,  perhaps  was 
that  had  marched  with  Caesar  into  Gaul  If 
ancestor"  '°'""'""«^  '°  •'='^'  =■  «"'"*  with  such 


ag 


HENRY  WADSWORTH 
LONGFELLOW 


'i..yw 


THE  POET  LONGFELLOW 


LET  my  theme  to-day  be  our  sweet  poet  of 
the  home  and  fireside — Henry  Wadsworth 
Longfellow.  Not  that  I  desire  to  appraise  him, 
for  this  belongs  to  the  reader.  Just  simply  to 
recall  some  of  his  more  popular  poems  and 
speak  of  the  circumstances  that  attended  their 
birth  and  genesis.    ,     ,     , 

Longfellow  has  told  us  himself  how  he  came 
to  wrii ;  many  of  his  poems.  It  is  strange  how 
the  fire  of  inspiration  touches  the  lips  and  hearts 
of  some  poets.  A  fact  worth  noting  in  this 
connection  is  that  the  subject  of  a  poem  may, 
so  to  speak,  haunt  the  dreams  and  thoughts 
of  a  poet  for  weeks  and  months  before  it  has 
been  set  down  on  paper.  No  doubt  this  is  true 
of  all  art,  and  it  would  be  interesting  indeed  to 
know  how  long  the  shadowing  and  uplifting 
wings  of  inspiration  hovered  over  a  Dante,  a 
Goethe,  a  Wagner  and  a  Michael  Angelo  ere 
they  produced  a  Divine  Comedy,  a  Faust,  a 
Parsifal  and  a  Last  Judgment. 


But  perhaps  it  is  well  that  great  artists  do 
not  betray  or  reveal  to  the  world  their  sweet 
communion,    their   sweet    converse,    with   the 

33 


guests  of  inspiration,  with  the  guests  of  the 
soul.  As  I  have  already  said,  Longfellow, 
however,  has  taken  us  imo  his  confidence  and 
told  us  the  genesis  of  many  of  his  beautiful 
poetic  productions.  He  wrote  the  "Psalm  of 
Life"  when  quite  a  young  man.  It  was,  he 
ttlls  us,  a  bright  day  and  the  trees  were  bloom- 
ing and  he  felt  an  impulse  to  write  out  his  aim 
and  purpose  in  life.  He  put  the  poem  into 
his  pocket  and  sometime  later,  being  solicited 
by  a  popular  magazine  for  a  poem,  he  sent  the 
"Psalm  of  Life."     «    *    « 

That  sweet  lyric,  "The  Bridge,"  was  written 
by  Longfellow  in  great  sorrow.  He  had  lost, 
I  think,  his  first  wife — for  the  poet  was  twice 
married  and  it  will  be  remembered  that 
"Hyperion,"  according  to  a  pleasing  legend, 
was  written  to  win  the  heart  of  her  who  be- 
came his  second  wife— and  Longfellow  used  to 
go  over  the  bridge  to  Boston  of  evenings,  to 
meet  friends,  and  return  near  midnight  by  the 
same  way.  The  way  was  silent  save  here  and 
there  a  belated  footstep.  The  sea  rose  or  fell 
among  the  wooden  piers  and  there  was  a  great 
furnace  on  the  Brighton  hills,  whose  red  light 
was  reflected  by  the  waves.  It  was  on  such  a 
late  solitary  walk  that  the  spirit  of  the  poem 
came  upon  him.       *    «    + 

Longfellow  has  also  told  us  how  the  "Tales 
of  a  Wayside  Inn"  came  to  assume  their  form. 

34 


He  had  published  a  part  of  the  metrical  story 
in  magazines.  He  desired  to  include  them  with 
others  in  a  continuous  narrative,  and  he  be- 
thought hi-.nself  of  the  old  Wayside  Inn  in 
Sudbury,  where  his  father-in-law  used  some- 
times to  give  hospitable  dinners,  but  which  he 
himself  had  only  once  s°en.  He  placed  his 
story-tellers  there.  The  student  vras  Mr.  Wales ; 
the  poet  Mr.  Parsons,  the  £>ante  scholar;  the 
Sicilian  Luigi  Monte;  the  Jew  Edrehi.  There 
were  many  places  described  by  the  poet  that 
he  had  only  seen  in  his  mind's  eye.  Such  were 
the  scenes  of  Grand  Pre  in  "Evangeline"  and 
the  Falls  of  Minnehaha.  "I  never  wished  to 
see  Acadia"  he  once  said  after  the  reputation 
of  "Evangeline"  had  become  established.  "I 
would  feel  that  the  sight  would  not  fulfill  my 
vision."  Ijongfellow,  however,  it  is  said,  once 
visited  the  Wayside  Ini\  after  he  had  made  it 
famous  by  his  poem. 

•    *    * 

In  the  composition  of  Hiawatha,  that  beauti- 
ful Indian  epic  which  has  done  so  much  to  im- 
mortalize the  aborigine  in  American  literature, 
Longfellow  drew  from  two  r"  ^at  sources  — 
Schoolcraft's  history  of  the  American  Indian 
and  Father  Marquette's  diary.  From  the  latter 
Longfellow  took  whole  lines  and  incorporated 
them  in  his  popular  poem. 

3S 


As  to  the  mold  of  the  verse  i..  Hiawatha, 
why,  the  poet,  who  had  a  most  accurate  and  in- 
timate knowledge  of  nearly  all  the  European 
languages  and  literature,  found  and  followed 
for  model  the  great  Finnish  tale  of  Kalevala 
^o  closely  is  Hiawatha  fashioned  on  the  great 
Finnish   epic   that   some   regard   Longfellow's 
poem  as  a  plagiarism.     The  charge,  however 
IS  without  foundation.    As  well  charge  modern 
English  poets,  because  they  have  chosen  the 
Spenserian  stanza,  with  plagiarizing  Spenser. 
*     *     * 
Longfellow  himself  tells  us  how  he  came  to 
wrile"Excelsior" :  "I  wrote 'Excelsior',"  he  says 
"after  receiving  a  letter  from  Charles  Sumner 
at  Washington  full  of  lofty  sentiments.    In  one 
of  the  sentences  occurred  the  word  'excelsior ' 
As  I  dropped  the  letter  that  word  again  caught 
my  eye.    I  turned  over  the  letter  and  wrote  my 
poem.     I  wrote  the  'Wreck  of  the  Hesperus' 
because,  after  hearing  an  account  of  the  loss 
of  a  part  of  the  Gloucester  fishing  fleet  in  an 
autumn  storm,  I  met  the  words  'Norman's  woe  ' 
I  retired  for  the  night  after  reading  the  report 
of  the  disaster,  but  the  scene  haunted  me     I 
arose  to  write  and  the  poem  came  to  me  in 
whole  stanzas."        *     *    » 

Of  course  it  is  well  known  how  Longfellow 
came  to  write  "The  Old  Clock  on  the  Stairs  " 
It  was  suggested  to  him  by  the  simile  used 
36 


in  a  sermon  by  a  French  priest  who  likened 
eternity  to  the  pendulum  of  a  clock,  which  went 
on  forever,  saying :  "Toujours-jamais !  Jamais- 
toujours!"  "Forever-neverl  Never-forever  I" 
And  when  a  visitor  was  once  being  shown 
through  Longfellow's  home,  the  poet  said,  "The 
clock  in  the  corner  of  the  room  is  not  the  one 
to  which  I  refer  in  my  'Old  Clock  on  the 
Stairs.'  That  clock  stood  in  the  country  house 
of  my  father-in-law  at  Pittsfield,  among  the 
Berkshire  hills."       «     ,     « 

Longfellow  is  one  of  the  sweetest  poets  in 
the  English  language.  It  is  true  that  he  lacks 
sublimity  and  strength,  but  he  possesses  a 
grace,  tenderness  and  humanity  that  have 
opened  the  door  of  every  heart  to  him,  it  mat- 
ters not  in  what  clime. 


When  studying  in  Europe  a  few  years  ago  I 
was  astonished  at  the  knowledge  and  apprecia- 
tion which  Germans,  Belgians,  French  and  Ital- 
ians have  of  him.  He  is  translated  into  nearly 
all  European  languages  and,  as  I  write,  I  have 
before  me  an  excellent  German  translation  of 
many  of  his  sweetest  and  best  known  lyrics — 
the  work  of  a  German  professor  at  Dresden. 


37 


LANGUAGES.  MAGAZINES 
AND  CRITICISM 


m 


"^'Il 


THE   ENGLISH   LANGUAGE 


©UR  good  old  mother  tongue — the  heritage 
of  centuries  —  shall  here  be  my  theme. 
Of  all  languages  it  is  the  most  composite  and, 
while  neither  the  most  logical  nor  clear,  it  is 
marked  by  a  richness  of  expression,  a  wealth 
of  vocabulary  and  a  flexibility  unsurpassed  by 
any  other  language  of  modern  times.  It  has 
not  the  precision  or  artistry  of  the  French,  the 
wora  building  genius  of  the  German,  the  spirit- 
ual suggestiveness  of  the  Celtic  or  the  subtle 
nuances  of  the  Spanish  or  Italian. 


Yet  this  noble  tongue  that  Shakespeare  and 
Milton  once  "spake"  has,  we  might  say,  a  very 
gift  of  tongues.  It  is  English  but  it  is  more 
than  that.  It  embodies  something  of  the  soul 
of  all  speech  known  to  civilized  nations.  By 
the  infusion  of  the  majestic  language  of  Virgil 
during  various  epochs  and  centuries  of  its  life, 
it  shares  in  the  stateliness  of  Latin  genius,  while 
its  Saxon  veins  throb  with  the  warmth  and 
directniss  of  the  plain  but  expressive  turn  or 
thought  of  the  days  of  Alfred  the  Great.  Nor 
has  it  lost  entirely  the  courtly  polish  of  its 

41 


ill 


m 


Norman  anceitry  or  the  nobU  ue  oblige  of  the 
days,  dark  yet  urbane,  of  the  unfortunate 
Stuarts.  *    «    * 

But,  truth  to  say,  like  its  people  it  has  been 
a  pirate  and  freebooter  upon  every  sea  and  has 
not  only  robbed  the  precious  word-argosies  of 
other  nations  but  in  some  cases  has  maintained 
that  these  gipsy  children  are  its  own.  But,  just 
because  the  English  language  is  so  composite 
and  full  of  the  accent  of  every  strange  land,  it 
is  thereby  the  more  difficult  to  perfect—  the 
more  difficut  to  polish  and  pru«e  and  make 
truly  like  unto  itself. 

*  *    * 

A  linguistic  phenomenon,  strange  but  inter- 
esting, is  the  new  molding,  the  new  accent  that 
has  come  into  its  life  since  it  has  found  an- 
other home  under  New  World  stars.  For  as- 
suredly the  English  of  London  and  New  York 
or  Boston  differs  as  widely  as  does  the  trend  of 
thought  there.  This  is,  however,  in  every  way  in 
accordance  with  the  law  and  growth  of  lan- 
guages. Separate  the  sprig  from  its  parent 
root  and  you  have  in  time  a  tree  bearing  a 
family  likeness,  it  is  true,  but  quite  individual 
in  form,  branch  and  outline. 

*  *     * 

It  is  humanity  that  works  this  change  psy- 
chologically, aided  by  every  accident  of  time 


I 


and  place.  By  the  way,  we  have  an  excellent 
illustration  of  this  in  the  second  book  of  Virgil'i 
Aeneid,  wherein  it  described  the  bloody  combat 
between  the  Greeks  and  Trojans.  Troy  ol 
course  was  a  Greek  colony,  but  so  many  years 
had  intervened  since  its  foundation  that  its  peo- 
ple spoke  a  Greek  differing  much  in  accent 
from  that  of  Sparta  or  Athens.  And  though, 
as  it  will  be  remembered,  the  Trojans  at  the 
suggestion  of  Coroebus  played  the  ruse  of 
changing  shields  and  donning  the  arms  of  the 
Greeks,  yet  they  were  discovered  because  of 
the  difference  of  their  accent : 

"Primi  clipeos  mentitaque  tela 

Agnoscunt,  atque  ora  sono  discordia  signant." 

*    *    * 

J  :'':  true  that  Homer  assumes  that  the 
•■iv-fifs  ...id  Trojans  spoke  the  same  language, 
A'  ■  '.  no  doubt  correct,  and  the  difference 
l-L>tw.-en  them  very  likely  was  merely  that  of 
a  dialect.  *    «    « 

It  has  always  seemed  strange  to  me  how 
localized  the  English  accent  has  become  here 
in  America.  See  how  clearly  differentiated  in 
accent  is  the  speech  of  the  man  from  Maine, 
the  man  from  Indiana  and  the  man  from  Vir- 
ginia, and  this  despite  the  fact  that  there  is 
and  always  has  been  more  or  less  intercourse 
between  all  three  States.     But  we  think  that 

43 


time,  instead  of  emphasizing,  will  reduce  this 
difference.  Properly  speaking,  no  dialect  has 
ever  had  root  in  America.  TTiat  is,  if  we  under- 
stand by  dialect  the  form  or  idiom  of  a  language 
peculiar  to  a  province  or  to  a  limited  region 
or  people,  as  distinguished  from  the  literary 
language  of  the  whole  people.  The  nearest 
approach  to  a  dialect  in  America  is  that  which 
is  represented  in  the  Hoosier  poems  of  James 
Whitcomb  Riley,  but  we  think  that  the  diction 
of  Riley's  poems  scarcely  represents  the  every 
day  language  of  the  Indiana  common  people. 
No  doubt  in  the  main  it  is  a  tr.inscript,  but 
exaggerated  just  enough  to  create  tiie  veritable 
local  atmosphere  and  setting. 


We  remember  here  Artemus  Ward's  humor- 
ous reference  to  the  difference  of  speech  in 
America,  where  he  tells  of  a  convict  in  Con- 
necticut who,  on  entering  the  jail,  told  the  jailer 
with  something  of  pride  in  his  voice  that  he 
could  speak  six  different  languages :  Maine, 
New  Hampshire,  Vermont,  Connecticut,  Rhode 
Island  and  Massachusetts,  and  the  jailer  replied 
gruffly,  "Sir,  we  speak  but  one  language  here 
and  very  little  of  that." 

*    *    * 

Nowhere  has  an  English  dialect  become  so 
crystallized  and  fixed  as  in  England.  Take 
for  instance  Devonshire,  Lancashire  and  York- 

44 


shire,  and  any  one  who  has  visited  these  three 
English  counties  knows  fall  well  how  difficult 
it  is  to  make  out  the  speech  of  the  common 
people.  *     «     * 

As  you  go  north  in  England  you  find  the 
language  of  the  peasantry,  as  in  Northumber- 
land, approximating  very  closely  to  that  of  the 
neighboring  Scotch  dialect  across  the  Firth  of 
Forth.  Indeed  the  rich  homely  language  of 
Burns  will  be  found  as  the  basis  of  nearly  all 
the  dialects  of  England,  for  this  is  in  accordance 
again  with  the  unchangeable  law  of  languages 
that  their  essentials,  but  not  their  accidents,  live 
ever  on. 


m 


\  II: 


45 


A  WORD  ABOUT  LANGUAGES 


THE  English,  the  Americans  and  the  Cana- 
dians are  the  worst  linguists  in  the  world. 
I  know  nothing  about  the  Australians  or  the 
Cape  Colony  people,  but  I  take  it  that,  being 
British  colonies,  they  follow  in  this  respect 
the  traditions  of  the  mother  country.  The 
growth  or  extension  of  a  language  depends 
upon  the  growth  or  extension  of  the  nation 
speaking  that  language. 


For  instance,  there  has  been  a  greater  growth 
and  extension  of  English  and  German  as  lan- 
guages during  the  past  quarter  of  a  century 
than  there  has  been  of  French,  because  of  the 
increasing  and  preponderating  influence  of  the 
United  States,  England  and  Germany  in  the 
councils  of  nations  and  their  development  of 
colonies  and  commerce.  Indeed  both  these  lan- 
guages are  to-day  studied  almost  solely  for 
commercial  purposes.  I  speak  here  of  the 
practical  study  for  the  purpose  of  speaking  and 
writing,  not  their  academic,  which  is  limited  to 

46 


their  theoretical  study  in  our  schools  and  col- 
leges, and  which  frequently  has  but  little  value 
even  as  a  mental  discipline.  But,  while  the 
French  language  has  not  had  the  extension 
of  the  other  two  languages,  English  and  Ger- 
man, because  the  flag  of  France  no  longer 
stands  for  commerce  or  colony-planting,  it  has 
had  an  extension  among  scholars,  savants  and 
the  elite  of  thought  quite  beyond  what  the  3- 
litical  or  commercial  importance  of  the  nation 
behind  it  would  warrant.  For,  notwithstanding 
the  marvelous  increase  in  the  number  of  peo- 
ple who  speak  English  and  German  to-day, 
French  still  retains  its  hold  as  the  universal 
language  of  scholars  and  diplomats,  as  well  as 
of  courts  and  kings.  Nor,  in  my  opinion,  will 
it  ever  fall  from  this  high  estate. 

*     *    * 

You  cannot  kill  or  efface  the  culture  of  a 
people  flowering  through  the  centuries.  France 
has  been  to  mediaeval  and  modem  times  what 
Greece  was  to  the  ancient  world,  nor  are  the 
dramas  of  Aristophanes,  Euripides  and  So- 
phocles or  the  sculpture  of  Phidias  or  Praxiteles 
of  deeper  significance  to  the  world  of  art  than 
are  the  creations  of  French  genius  to  the  cul- 
ture of  our  day.  From  the  Greeks  we  get 
ideality  and  proportion,  from  the  French  the 
logical  harmony  of  all  beauty  and  thought. 

47 


'   1. 


Speaking  of  the  fact  that  French  still  holds 
its  throni.  in  the  halls  of  scholars,  I  saw  this 
well  exemplified  at  Carlsbad  in  Bohemia  last 
summer.  Gathered  around  a  table  in  a  restau- 
rant were  four  tourists,  with  appetites  whetted 
by  the  keen  mountain  air  of  that  delightful  re- 
sort. One  of  the  quartette,  a  lady,  came  from 
Odessa,  in  Russia,  and  the  three  gentlemen 
were,  respectively,  a  Custom  House  officer  from 
Buda-Pesth  in  Hungary,  an  officer  in  the  Rou- 
manian army,  and  the  writer.  But  two  of  the 
four  knew  German,  and  only  one  English.  Now 
we  all  were  in  a  talking  mood,  which  is  not  un- 
common when  tourists  by  chance  are  thrown 
together.  It  was  soon  discovered  that  every  one 
of  the  four  knew  French,  and  we  were  capable 
of  conversing  freely  in  the  language  of  Lamar- 
tine  and  Victor  Hugo. 

*  *  * 
I  found  that  the  Russian  woman  had  the  best 
command  of  French  and  her  grip  on  the  facts 
of  life,  art  and  governmen.  was  wonderful.  No 
doubt  she  had  never  gone  to  a  Vassar  or  co- 
education university,  yet  she  had  a  knowledge 
of  the  world,  its  peoples,  politics  and  principles 
that  would  put  to  shame  any  "co-ed"  nurtured 
under  New  World  stars,  with  portrait  aj^earing 
monthly  in  our  daily  papers.  Remember  that 
I  am  not  setting  up  the  Russian  woman— that 

48 


T  V*  m- 


is,  the  average  Russian  woman— as  at  all  the 
equal  of  the  American  woman  in  intelligence. 
She  is  not.  But  the  educated  Russian  woman 
IS  a  deep  thinker  and  has  a  far  more  richly 
stored  mind  as  to  the  great  facts  of  life,  govern- 
ment, history  and  art  than  the  brightest  of  our 
women,  whose  little  educational  skiffs  but  skim 
the  great  sea  of  knowledge,  yet  seldom  linger 
to  siudy  the  mysterious  secrets  of  the  deep. 


Of  course  languages  are  not  everything,  but 
they  are  the  key  to  a  good  deal.  They  at  least 
broaden  the  mind  and  make  us  for  the  moment 
forget  the  cottage  of  our  birth.  Through  lan- 
guages we  learn  that  there  have  been  great 
thinkers  and  dreamers  in  this  world  of  ours 
who  did  not  speak  the  language  that  "Shake- 
speare and  Milton  once  spake."  Through  lan- 
guages, too,  we  get  closer  to  the  genius  of  every 
land— closer  to  the  genius  of  every  people. 
Their  acquisition,  therefore,  will  steady  our 
judgments  and  give  a  new  value  to  our  opinions, 
for  judgments  and  opinions  based  upon  senti- 
ment and  not  upon  fact  are  well-nigh  worthless. 


'    I'll 


Another  proof  that  French  is  still  to  the 
scholar  in  every  land,  and  particularly  in  Eu- 
rope, of  great  importance,  is  the  fact  that  nearly 

49 


every  one  of  the  sixteen  universities  of  France 
has  a  summer  session  for  foreign  students.  The 
first  French  university  to  establish  this  special 
course  or  semester  for  foreign  students  was,  I 
believe,  Grenoble,  and  it  draws  to-day  to  its 
lecture-halls  during  its  summer  session  a  very 
large  number  of  students  from  well-nigh  every 
country  in  Europe  as  well  as  America.  Dijon 
and  Nancy  and  Caen  universities  have  followed 
suit,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  .say  that  during 
the  months  of  July,  August,  September  and 
October  thousands  of  students  from  England, 
Scotland,  Ireland,  Norway  and  Sweden,  Russia, 
Italy,  Bulgaria,  Austria,  and  especially  Ger- 
many, register  and  follow  courses  in  French  in 
the  universities  of  France. 


And  yet  men  will  speak  of  the  decay  of  the 
French  language.  Not  so.  If  you  mean  that 
the  augmentation  of  French-speaking  people  is 
not  equal  to  that  of  the  Eiigmh  or  German,  yes ; 
but  if  you  mean  the  interest — the  practical  in- 
terest taken  in  French  by  scholars,  students  and 
thinkers,  it  is  far  from  the  truth  to  speak  of  the 
decay  of  the  language  of  Racine  and  Moliire. 


Just  a  word  as  to  the  value  of  French  as  an 
expression  of  thought.  It  is  evident  to  anybody 
who  knows  anything  about  languages  that  for 

SO 


clear,  logical,  artistic  expression  the  French 
stands  alone.  Now  have  we  any  proof  of  this? 
Its  proof  is  found  in  the  fact  that  such  a  beaute- 
ous body  of  prose  writing  is  found  nowhere  as 
in  France.  He  must  be  steeped  in  prejudice 
who  cannot  admit  this— nay,  voice  it  from  the 
housetops. 

Remember  that  I  am  not  so  enthusiastic 
about  French  poetry.  I  think  it  does  not 
measure  up  to  either  English  or  German  poetry. 
And  in  some  departments  —  especially  in  the 
lyric— I  think  the  German  the  greatest  of  all. 
The  great  songs  of  to-day  are  German,  and  the 
voicmg  in  song  of  the  national  heart  has  never 
been  surpassed  as  yet  by  any  other  land. 


^:i 


SI 


CONCERNING  COMPOSITION 

I N  one  of  my  recent  "chats"  I  spoke  of  the 
composite  character  of  the  English  lan- 
guage ;  to-day  I  wish  to  speak  more  definitelv 
and  concretely  of  English  composition  and  the 
great  need  of  word  study,  if  we  would  hope  to 
express  ourselves  clearly  and  elegantly  in  the 
language  of  Milton  and  Shakespeare. 
*  *  • 
Buffon,  the  great  French  scientist,  tells  us 
that  "Le  style  c'est  I'homme"— the  style  is  the 
man.  There  can  be  no  doubt  about  the  truth 
of  this  statement.  Style  simply  reflects  or  reg- 
isters a  man's  mode  or  manner  of  thinking. 
We  speak  of  a  diffuse  style,  a  concise  style,  a 
nervous  style,  a  cl»ar  style,  a  periodic  style,  all 
of  which  styles  ai.  governed  by  the  mode  of  the 
thought  which  orders  the  sentence.  All  compo- 
sition, therefore,  reduced  to  its  final  analysis, 
and  all  the  rules  of  composition  are  nothing 
more  than  thought  development. 


Now  a  study  of  rhetoric  in  its  relation  to 
composition  is  indeed  interesting,  but  its  value 

5a 


1 


as  a  means  of  developing  theme-writing  may,  I 
thmk,  be  questioned.  Just  now  there  is  quite 
a  craze  in  our  colleges  for  a  study  of  the  para- 
graph as  the  most  important  unit  in  composi- 
tion. I  must  confess  that  I  cannot  attach  such 
importance  to  a  study  of  the  paragraph.  We 
speak  of  prospective,  retrospective  and  transi- 
tional elements  in  a  paragraph,  but,  if  the  mind 
has  not  been  developed,  so  to  speak,  paragraph- 
ically,  all  this  formal  talk  about  it  in  the  rhet- 
oric class  IS  but  a  waste  of  words— a  waste  of 
time. 

*    «    * 

language  is  a  living  organism,  and  at  best  a 
knowledge  of  the  rhetoriLril  rules  deduced  from 
the  expression  of  thought  is  not  at  all  viul  or 
essential  to  thought  expression,  and  the  hours, 
days  and  months  spent  in  studying  this  verbal 
fashion-plate  are,  in  my  opinion,  of  very  little 
value.  The  greatest  value  flows  from  a  close 
and  careful  study  of  the  office  and  inherent 
meaning  of  the  word  rather  than  from  a  study  of 
the  mode  of  expression,  either  in  sentence  or 
paragraph.  ,    ,    , 

A  well  and  clearly  and  logically  developed 
mmd,  possessing  an  exact  knowledge  of  the 
function  of  each  word,  will  assuredly  write 
clearly  and  elegantly  and  with  all  the  graces  of 
composition,  though  he  or  she  may  not  have 

53 


l!J 


I 


•tudied  a  single  paragraph  in  a  cla«>  of  rhetoric 
or  compoiition.  What  we  sorely  need  to-day 
is  a  more  accurate  knowledge  of  the  words  we 
use,  and  this  we  can  obtain  in  one  way  and  in 
one  way  only— by  reading  the  great  masters 
of  English— a  Newman,  a  Ruskin,  a  De  Quincy, 
a  Macaulay,  a  Matthew  Arnold,  an  Emerson,  a 
Bishop  Spalding,  a  Goldwin  Smith,  a  Charles 
A.  Dana.  »    »     , 

It  is  said  that  Emerson  selected  his  words 
with  the  nice  care  with  which  a  maiden  cross- 
ing a  brook  chooses  the  dry  pebbles  whereon 
she  safely  steps  to  avoid  the  water.  Again,  as 
it  is  wisdom  to  be  frugal  in  one's  diet,  so  should 
economy  also  extend  to  our  use  of  words.  It 
is  pitiable  to  see  a  thought  buried  beneath  a 
great  boulder  of  words.  I  think  we  English- 
speaking  people  treat  our  language  with  less 
consideration  than  any  other  people  I  know  of. 
Listen  to  the  language  in  our  street  cars,  around 
the  family  table  and  in  our  society  drawing- 
rooms  and  tell  me  it  our  good  mother  tongue 
could  not  every  day  indict  us  for  verbal  murder. 
We  send  our  sons  and  daughters  to  colleges 
and  academies  to  become  educated,  and  they 
return  with  as  sh  "-by  a  garment  of  English  as 
was  the  bodily  Vesture  of  the  Prodigal  Son 
when  he  returned  to  his  father's  hous?.    I  musit 

54 


confess  that  I  know  no  people  to-day  who  un- 
derstand and  study  their  own  language  better 
than  do  the  French.  No  wonder  the  language 
of  Bossuet  and  Lamartine  is  a  clear,  artistic  and 
logical  vehicle  for  the  expression  of  thought. 


I'M 


I  think  slang  betrays  or  reflects  superficiality 
of  mind  and  poverty  of  language.  Go  to  Ire- 
land to-day  and  you  wilt  hear  scarcely  a  slang 
word  among  its  people.  The  poorest  of  its  in- 
habitants are  too  rich  in  wealth  of  words  to 
resort  to  slang.  They  may  not  talk  elegantly, 
the  peasantry  of  Ireland,  but  be  assured  that 
their  language  will  be  expressive  and  their 
thought  always  original.  They  have  no  need  to 
resort  to  the  language  of  the  race-course  nor  to 
that  of  the  baseball  or  fooiball  field.  Slang  you 
will  certainly  find  in  Europe,  but  the  people  who 
use  it  are  classed  and  segregated,  whereas  here 
in  America  it  has  trickled  and  trailed  through 
every  grade  of  our  social  and  intellectual  life. 
A  corrective  of  sla-  g  is  the  constant  reading  of 
clean,  wholesome  literatu  id  the  compan- 
.  ionship  of  scholarly  friends.  Some  one  has  said 
that  God  gives  us  our  face,  but  we  make  our 
own  countenance.  It  is  equally  true  of  our 
speech.  I  believe  that  God  gave  Adam  in  the 
Garden  of  Eden  a  f  jlly  rounded  and  developed 

55 


I  It 


language — no  doubt  Eve  improved  a  little  on 
thi»,  and  her  daughters  have  been  following  it 
up  perieveringly  ever  since— but  the  counte- 
nance of  language  has  been  the  work  of  man. 


Have  you  ever  remarked  how  delightful  it 
is  to  meet  with  one,  the  garden  of  whose  mind 
blossoms  with  the  beauteous  flowers  of  pure 
and  goodly  thought  robed  in  the  dews  of  choic- 
est diction?  It  is  indeed  rest  for  the  wearied 
soul,  scorched  and  parched  with  the  dry  deserts 
of  thought  stretching  ever  around  us.  It  is, 
too,  as  grateful  as  a  fountain  in  a  desert,  for  it 
renews  our  strength  and  makes  us  forget  the 
toilsome  miles  ahead. 


AS  TO  MAGAZINES 


Ti   WORD  to-day  about  gome  current  liter- 
*■     ature.    This  is  the  age  of  multiplied  mag- 
azines   and    journals    of    every    sort.      Every 
school  of  thought,  every  religious  body  of  any 
importance,  every  literary  and  artistic  cult  has 
its  literary  exponent  or  magazine.    In  a  word, 
we  are  deluged  with  magazines — some  valuable, 
some  pernicious,  some  vicious. 
*     t     * 
It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  America  has 
discovered  the  popular  magazine.    But  America 
has  not  yet  discovered  the  high  class  and  truly 
informing  magazine.    The  American  magazine 
is  not  thought-provoking — it  is  often  not  even 
suggestive.     It  is  entertaining  and  interesting, 
but  does  not  contain  a  great  deal  of  meat.    Take 
for  instance  the  Dublin  Review.    It  has  a  tone 
and  a  literary  value  entirely  superior  to  the  best 
American  literary  magazine  of  our  day.    I  sup- 
pose the  Atlantic   Monthly,  staid  and  stereo- 
typed in  thought  as  it  is,  is  the  first  of  our 
American  literary  magazines. 
*     »    * 
But  the  Atlantic  Monthly  is  not  what  it  used 
to  be  in  the  days  of  Lowell,  Longfellow  and 

57 


HI 


Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich.  It  has  somewhat  fallen 
from  literary  grace  and  is  a  kind  of  gipsy  child 
among  the  literary  elite.  It  occasionally  has  a 
good  paper  up  to  the  old  standard,  but  its  lapses 
are  so  many  that  its  sins  of  omission  linger  in 
the  literary  memory. 

*     *    ♦ 

We  have  too  much  "smart"  writing  here  in 
America  and  not  enough  of  scholarship  and 
thought.  The  Atlantic  Monthly  had  noble  birth 
— it  was  born  under  good  literary  auspices  and 
received  its  baptism  in  the  regular  literary  way. 
But  times  have  changed  and  some  of  its  sister 
magazines  have  donned  such  glowing  attire  and 
frizzled  their  hair  and  played  the  adventuress — 
and  all  this  with  such  success  that  a  well  be- 
haved magazine  like  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  cor- 
rect in  its  character  and  bearing  and  always  of 
a  good  moral  tone,  can  scarcely  hold  its  admir- 
ers any  longer.        ,    »    , 

Among  French  periodicals  "Les  Annates  Lit- 
teraires"  is,  I  think,  the  best.  The  French  excel 
in  literary  criticism,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  their  literary  reviews  arc  of  a  high  order. 
Just  fancy  the  late  Ferdinand  Brunetiere  at  the 
head  of  a  magazine.  What  judgments  you  might 
expect  to  get.  He  is  unquestionably  the  great- 
est French  critic  since  the  days  of  Saint  Beuve. 


58 


Ill 


Go  to  Brussels  and  you  will  speedily  learn 
what  the  Belgians  are  doing  for  criticism.  Like 
the  French  they,  too,  have  a  standard.  In 
America  we  have  no  standard.  All  kinds  of  lit- 
erary heresies  are  taught  in  our  universities. 
The  professors  are  partisans.  Is  it  any  wonder 
that  our  magazines  are  also  partisans  ?  Take, 
for  instance,  the  North  American  Review  and 
the  Forum.  Glance  at  their  literary  reviews  and 
you  will  soon  learn  what  little  real' value  can  be 
often  attached  io  them. 

*  *  » 
To  be  a  go..  "  essayist  is  to  be  a  good  maga- 
zine writer  and  editor.  Take  James  Russell 
Lowell.  He  was  one  of  the  most  successful  ed- 
itors that  the  Atlantic  Monthly  ever  had.  Why? 
Simply  because  Lowell  was  a  very  prince  of 
essayists.  He  had  a  command  of  clear-cut  Eng- 
lish rarely  possessed  by  any  other  of  his  coun- 
trymen. 

The  editor  of  a  magazine  should  be,  above 
all,  versatile.  He  need  not  necessarily  be  deep. 
In  fact,  if  he  is  too  deep  for  his  readers,  as  was 
Dr.  Brownson,  his  magazine  will  not  satisfy  his 
constituency.  The  people  will  murmur— they 
may  read  the  magazine  as  a  kind  of  imposed  lit- 
erary penance,  but  they  will  always  read  under 
protest.  A  well  conducted  magazine  should 
meet  the  needs  of  the  people,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  uplifts  them.  ,. 


i 


1  'I 


HI 


59 


CRITICS  AND  CRITICISM 


JM  WORD  to-day  about  criticism  and  re- 
**  views.  Some  one  has  said  that  a  man 
becomes  critical  when  he  finds  that  he  is 
not  creative.  I  recently  heard  a  professor 
lecturing  to  a  class  in  elocution,  and  he 
wisely  advised  them  never  to  criticise  any 
reader  unless  they  could  do  better  them- 
selves. Criticism  should  be  the  conscience 
of  art  and  should  have  in  it  more  construc- 
tion than  destruction.  The  critical  faculty, 
as  a  general  thing,  is  not  very  well  developed 
among  English-speaking  people — that  is,  they 
lack  standards  and  principles.  It  is  true,  they 
freely  criticise,  indeed  often  blindly. 
*    *    * 

I  have  more  admiration  and  respect  for 
French  criticism  along  the  Une  of  art  and  liter- 
ature than  any  other.  Not  that  I  would  will- 
ingly agree  with  it  in  everything— for  instance, 
in  the  French  estimate  of  the  drama — but  the 
French  mind  is  eminently  logical,  artistic  and 
full  of  fair  proportion.  In  this,  as  I  have  often 
said,    it     resembles    the     Greek    mind.      Of 

60 


course  national  prejudice  often  warps  the 
judgment  of  the  critic.  I  remember  once 
picking  up  a  little  brochure  in  a  book  store  in 
Rome.  It  was  the  work  of  an  Englishman,  in 
which  he  attacked  the  art  methods  oi  Michael 
Angelo  and  Raphael. 

*  *  * 
I  read  it  carefully  through  just  to  learn  what 
an  Englishman  had  to  say  of  the  painters  of 
the  Last  Judgment  and  the  Transfiguration. 
It  was  certainly  destructive  criticism.  He  went 
at  Michael  Angelo's  Moses,  in  the  Church  of 
St.  Peter's  in  Chains,  as  would  an  Iconoclast  in 
the  days  of  image-smashing  in  the  Eastern 
Church.  This  son  of  the  North  from  the  island 
of  fogs  and  mists,  whose  people  were  busy  bear- 
baiting,  beer  drinking,  dreaming  ot  conquest 
on  sea  and  land,  ana  burning  martyrs  at  the 
stake,  when  Latin  Spain  and  Italy  were  glorify- 
ing the  canvases  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  with  the  dreams  of  a  Murillo,  a  Titian 
and  a  Raphael,  now  assumes  to  lecture  on  the 
principles  of  sculpture  and  painting  to  the  most 
inspired  art  children  of  the  earth. 


N 


\4 


m 


Let  me  say  that  deep  sympathy  is  at  the  basis 
of  all  true  and  valuable  criticism.  Some  think 
that  the  harder  you  hit  the  better  is  the  criti- 
cism— that   to   peel   the   rind   off,   figuratively 

6i 


M 


^ 


speaking,  is  clever  criticism.  Now,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  criticism  should  be  partly  destructive 
and  partly  constructive— it  should  be  both 
directive  and  suggestive. 


There  is  a  criticism,  and  a  very  large  body  of 
it,  that  is  merely  perfunctory.  Anybody  who 
has  ever  given  to  the  public  six  or  eight  works 
and  then  read  the  reviews  of  the  books  in  the 
different  journals  and  magazine.*  will  under- 
stand fully  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  a  large 
body  of  criticism  is  merely  perfunctory.  It 
could  not  be  otherwise,  for  two  reasons.  First, 
the  reviewer  frequently  is  dealing  with  a  woric 
whose  merits  he  does  not  understand.  Sec- 
ondly, to  say  something  about  the  book  in  a 
column  of  review  often  is  his  sole  purpose  and 
end.  Often  the  question  of  merit  is  en- 
tirely aside.  «    «    * 

It  will  bi;  remembered  that  Oliver  Goldsmith, 
the  author  of  "The  Deserved  VUlage,"  was  for 
some  time  a  reviewer  of  books  on  a  magazine, 
and  he  always  ended  up  his  review  with  this 
safe  and  sane,  though  perfunctory,  sUtement: 
"Had  the  author  read  more  widelv  he  would 
have  written  more  intelligently."'  This,  of 
course,  is  a  truism  and  becomes  bald  in  value 
when  continually  Ucked  on  at  the  end  of  a 
review. 

6a 


I  think  the  critical  side  is  much  overdone  in 
the  study  of  literature  in  alt  our  schools  and 
colleges.  Is  it  not  time  that  we  should  take  it 
for  granted  that  Newman  and  Ruskin  and  Mac- 
aulay  could  write  prose,  and  Tennyson,  Long- 
fellow and  Wordsworth  poetry?  Continual 
criticism  is  fatal  to  assimilation,  and  all  literary 
and  art  power  must  pass  through  the  door  of 
assimilation.  A  soul  vital  at  every  point,  a  soul 
open  at  every  pore — if  the  expression  may  be 
allowed — this  is  the  requisite  in  orJer  to  reach 
the  best  in  literature. 


'Ij^' 


63 


ill 


ART 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  ABT 

f  ET  me  chat  with  my  readers  to-day  on  the 
**  subject  of  art-especially  that  departmeat 
of  It  which  glorifies  the  canvas.  All  the  fine 
arts— that  is,  music,  architecture,  poetry,  paint- 
ing and  sculpture-are  co-radical.  Art  is  beauty 
born  of  the  splendor  of  truth.  Now  God  is 
absolute  truth  and,  therefore,  the  source  and 
inspiration  of  all  art.  The  beauty  of  the  crea- 
ture, says  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  is  nothing  else 
than  a  participation  of  the  divine  beauty  by 
created  beings.  '     ' 

With  the  advent  of  Christianity  a  new  mean- 
ing was  given  to  art.  Ancient  art  rested  in  the 
finite  The  best  >york  of  Phidias  and  Praxiteles 
has  about  it  not  a  touch  or  hint  of  the  infinite. 
U  IS  born  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth  and  reflects 
as  m  a  mirror  its  source  and  origin.  But  Chris- 
tian art  is  of  heaven  and  reveals  the  fullness 
and  sanctity  of  its  birth. 


The  most  beautiful,  says  Thales,  the  father  of 
trreek  philosophy,  is  the  world  because  it  is  a 
work  of  God's  own  art.  Goeihe  gives  us  the 
worid  of  nature,  but  there  is  a  highei      e— the 

67 


world  o(  grace  and  glory.  According  to  St. 
Augustine,  all  beauty  in  created  beings  is  de- 
rived from  that  beauty  which  is  above  the  soul, 
and  therefore  creation  leads  us  by  its  beauty 
to  God.  »     «     « 

Ancient  art  represented  the  gods  in  sensible, 
beautiful  form,  but  nevertheless  they  are  only 
greater  men,  more  beautiful,  stronger  than  we 
are,  and  immortal ;  but  in  their  forms,  their  feel- 
ings and  their  passions  they  are  simply  mortals. 
Christianity,  as  a  writer  says,  frees  man  from 
earthly  bonds  and  fetters  and  directs  his  gaze 
heavenward.  Christian  art  does  not  emphasize 
beautiful  form  as  much  as  the  ancient  did.  It 
does  not  despise  it,  but  physical  beauty  which 
was  everything  to  the  Greek  appears  to  the 
Christian  as  a  secondary  factor. 


An  art  critic  tells  us  that  every  work  of  art 
includes  a  two-fold  element,  the  soul  and  its 
embodiment ;  the  former  is  constituted  by  the 
idea,  the  latter  enables  this  idea  to  become  the 
object  of  man's  contemplation;  therefore  the 
artist  works  with  hand  and  mind.  He  elevates 
himself  above  the  sensible  and  still  remains  in 
the  sphere  of  the  sensible,  by  endowing  the 
supersensible  with  a  sensible  form.  He  is, 
therefore,  as  Goethe  once  expressed  it,  "the 
slave  and  master  of  nature." 

68 


Let  us  here  for  a  moment  glance  at  tlie  ex- 
pression of  the  soul  in  art,  as  it  feels  its  way 
through  the  centuries.  For  myself  I  legard 
the  Gothic  cathedral  as  the  sublimest  expres- 
sion of  the  human  mind  in  art  and  the  best  con- 
ception ever  born  and  cradled  in  the  heart  of 
man.  The  Gothic  cathedral  in  its  ripened  full- 
ness marks  the  culmination  of  the  ages  of 
faith.  It  is  coeval  with  Dante's  Divine  Comedy 
and  St.  Thomas  Aqu.iias'  Summa  and  the  Red 
Cross  Knight  of  the  Holy  Land. 


,    H: 


It  burst  upon  the  vision  of  the  world  like 
some  divine  flower  which,  growing  unseen  in 
the  night,  fills  at  dawntide  the  whole  garden  with 
fragrance,  subduing  all  eyes  and  hearts  with  its 
grace.  Soon  this  great  art,  so  deep  in  its  spirit- 
ual splendor,  covered,  a,s  a  French  historian  tells 
us,  all  Europe  with  a  white  mantle  of  churches. 
It  took  root  first  in  beauteous  France  at  Sens 
about  the  time  Thomas  a'Becket,  fleeing  from 
the  wrath  of  Henry  II,  found  an  asyium  in  that 
ancient  city.  This  was  the  very  beginning  of 
Gothic  architecture. 

*     •    * 

When  we  turn  to  painting  we  see  how  slow 
was  the  transition  trom  the  stiff  Byzantine  mo- 
saic portrait  to  the  freedom  of  a  Raphael  or  a 
Da  Vinci  or  a  Titian.  Before  Raphael,  the 
prince  of  painters,  had  to  come  Cimabue  and 


.  Mil 


69 


Giotto,  and  the  latter  needed  •  St.  Francii  of 
AiiUi  and  a  Dante  to  evoke  the  great  artiftic 
viiion*  of  hii  loul.  Then  streamed  upon  the 
fair  face  of  Italy  »uch  a  glorioui  light  from  the 
painter'i  ioul,  that  iti  rays  to-day  fill  us  with 
such  wonder  that  we  would  for  the  moment 
wiUingly  again  dwell  in  these  rich  and  storied 
aisles  of  the  past  and  kneel  as  votaries  at  its 
spiritual  shrines.      ,    ,    , 

And  here  comes  up  the  question,  who  are  the 
great  painters  of  all  time— <he  masters?  It  is 
assuredly  difficult  of  answer.  As  with  poetry, 
so  with  painting;  it  is  a  matter  of  taste  and 
temperament.  Raphael  and  Murillo— these 
twain  should  satisfy  any  heart  and  these  twain 
are  certainly  among  the  great  painters  of  all 
time.  Add  to  these  the  names  of  Rubens, 
Titian,  Rembrandt,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  VeUs- 
quei  and  Michael  Angelo  and  you  have  cer- 
tainly a  sextette  of  great  painters,  though  the 
versatile  Michael  Angelo  is  unquestionably 
greatest  as  a  sculptor. 


70 


'mrm-'^:m>^':,m€\stim 


AKT  AND  ITS  TIMES 


Jl  RE  thete  our  timet  productive  o(  a  grtat 
**  art  or  have  we  fallen  •\x<u  sin.iil  anl 
barren  days,  devoid  of  »ptr  ^  i;il  inspiratiot,, 
for  that  is  really  what  all  ^it...t  art  mans. 
Let  us  make  examination.  The  v/oi\  of 
man  is  reaching  upwards,  not,  hovvever, 
in  aspiration  but  in  sky-scr.-pcr-.  TV.e 
earth  and  the  things  of  earth  have  quite 
blinded  man's  vision.  There  arc  ii.dced 
few  who  pierce  through  this  mesh  of  things- 
few  who  have  spiritual  vision  and  see  arightly 
the  things  of  God.  The  nations  do  not  kneel 
— mankind,  in  its  pride  of  heart,  is  too  all- 
sufficient.  It  is  not  a  question  of  sin,  for  there 
has  always  been  sin  in  the  world.  The  Ages 
of  Faith  had  as  big  sinners  as  the  most  darkly 
stained  epoch  of  modern  times.  But  the  Ages 
of  Faith  had  ever  eternity  and  the  judgment  and 
mercy  of  God  before  its  eyes.  It  sinned,  but  it 
repented,  and  in  this  repentance  consists  its 
spiritual  greatness.  ,    ,     , 

The  spiritual  worid  was  a  thing  real  to  the 
men  and  women  of  the  Middle  Ages.     They 

71 


/sjfj--* 


M.k;f'*l 


fkjm^ap^iii^L^^ 


acknowledged  the  presence  of  God  in  the  great 
temple  of  life.  This  is  clearly  evident  in  its  civ- 
ilization, literature  and  art,  for  it  was  faith  in 
God  that  inspired  and  fashioned  its  noblest 
works  and  monuments.  The  crusades  are  co- 
eval with  the  Gothic  cathedral,  and  the  sublime 
song  of  Dante  was  but  the  inspired  teaching 
of  St.  Thomas  in  verse.  No  age  is  greater  than 
its  spiritual  endowment  and  no  art  is  greater 
than  its  vision  of  God. 


To-day  modem  scholars  busy  themselves 
seeking  moral  hiatuses  in  the  character  of  the 
great  artists  that  illumine  the  Ages  of  Faith— 
a  Raphael,  a  Dante,  a  Petrarch,  a  Michael  An- 
gelo,  while  their  own  household  gods  fil!  niches 
of  unhallowed  passions  draped  with  the  hand  of 
so-called  modern  culture  and  refinement.  These 
modem  scholars  rarely  pause  to  take  an  inven- 
tory of  the  true  state  of  life  around  them— they 
are  so  satisfied  with  the  work  of  their  own 
hands  that  they  are  blind  in  their  appraisement 
of  the  work  of  God. 


The  spiritual  note  in  art  is  everything.  Hu- 
manity of  itself  can  rear  nothing  but  material 
structures.     Humanity  reared  the  temples  of 

7* 


)^:^MMmri  '^Etf-r-^^:m:!^Bm. 


the  East,  the  temples  and  arenas  of  Greece  and 
Rome  and  they  are  but  dust.    But  the  Church 
of  God,  flying  from  the  purple  rage  of  the  Cae- 
sars, sought  shelter  in  the  Catacombs  and  there 
carved  m  symbols  the  mysteries  of  our  Holy 
Faith-symbols  which  will  ever  abide.     It  is 
heaven  that  immortalizes,  not  man,  for  the  bavs 
that  bmd  the  brow  of  earthly  fame  are  withered 
at  the  very  going  down  of  the  sun. 
♦    *    * 
This  spiritual  note  is  greatly  lacking  in  the 
art  and  literature  of  our  day.    Such  art  and  lit- 
erature cannot,  therefore,  survive  the  teeth  of 
time.     Trumpets  may  blow  and  heralds  pro- 
claim It,  but  already  is  woven  for  it  the  shroud 
of  neglect  and  oblivion,  for  the  soul  of  every  aee 
and  people  seeks  for  the  abiding  things  of  God 

fashion        '"'"'^  °'  '"'"'  "^"^"-^^  ''^''-  ='"'"°t 

*    ♦    « 

Great  books  embalm  the  very  soul  of  the 
age,  great  paintings  reflect  as  in  a  mirror  the 
very  likeness  of  the  time.  Men's  spiritual 
dreams,  whether  embodied  in  stone  or  arch  or 
the  glorious  rhythmic  creation  of  song,  are  the 
true  records  of  a  people  and  a  key-an  unerring 

tt^7  A  °''"!  ^°^"'  "''  highest  aspira- 
tions They  are  volumes,  vital  in  every  page 
with  life  and  thought.  ^  ^' 


73 


T^^IZ^^^m^ 


Those  who  come  alter  us  will  not  seek  to 
learn  what  manner  of  age  was  ours  by  reading 
book  reviews  or  the  minutes  oi  a  literary  club, 
nor  will  they  seek  to  ascertain  whose  paintings 
were  hung  in  the  Paris  Salons  or  whose  books 
were  amongst  the  six  best  seller!) — they  will  put 
their  spiritual  finger  upon  the  immortal  page, 
the  immortal  canvas — ^the  glorious  dream  that 
reached  to  heaven. 


74 


1'^OMANi  HER  EDUCATION 
AND  MARRIAGE 


CONCERNING  W03IAN 


W  ET  me  speak  to-day  of  the  important  ques- 
**  tion  o{  the  education  of  our  girls,  for  after 
all,  let  statesmen  enact  what  laws  they  will,  Ut 
warriors  fight  what  battles  they  will,  in  the  last 
analysis  it  is  woman  who  makes  the  nation. 
Indeed  her  position  and  condition  are  a  true 
key  to  the  civilization  of  any  age  or  country. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  women  of  Homer,  the 
women  of  Virgil,  the  women  of  Dante  and  the 
women  of  Shakespeare.  Have  you  not  in  their 
characters  a  reflection  of  their  times? 


And  yet,  as  a  writer  tells  us.  revolution  does 
not  act  on  woman  as  it  does  on  man :  it  does 
not  enter  so  radically  into  her  mental  organiza- 
tion; therefore  throughout  the  mutations  of 
history  she  remains  a  clear  and  exhaustltss 
spring  in  the  depths  of  life,  for  its  perennial 
beauty  and  refreshment;  a  constant  heart  in 
the  midst  of  nations  for  their  vitality,  purity  and 

chanties. 

*     *     * 

_  But  to  return  to  the  theme  proper  of  my 
"Chats"  to-day,  what,  I  ask,  should  be  the  char- 
acter of  :he  education  of  a  girl  intended  to  be 

77 


a  home-builder — a  light  in  the  sanctuary  of  the 
home?  This  is  assuredly  a  pertinent  and  timely 
question  in  an  age  when  woman,  her  activitiei 
and  influence,  are  gaining  an  attention  which 
they  never  did  before. 

t    *    * 

Perhaps  in  no  other  country  in  the  world  has 
the  education  of  woman  so  occupied  the  public 
mind  as  in  this  our  own  land.  Indeed  it  is  only 
here  that  o.ie  sees  such  institutions  as  Bryn 
Mawr,  Vassar,  Trinity,  which  are  universities 
in  fact,  founded  and  endowed  for  the  advanced 
education  of  women.  There  is  nothing  like 
them  in  the  Old  World,  in  England,  France  or 
Germany.  The  New  World  is  also  full  of  ten- 
tative schemes.  It  has  fads  and  fashions  grow- 
ing on  every  rose  bush.  Is  its  higher  education 
of  woman  a  fad  ?    Let  us  examine  it. 


There  is  no  denying  it  that  home-building  is 
as  natural  to  a  woman  as  nest-building  is  to  a 
bird.  Every  woman  is  bom  with  this  instinct 
in  her  heart,  and  those  who  depart  from  its  pur- 
pose should  be  the  exception.  But  in  face  of 
figures  often  quoted  to  the  contrary,  the  intel- 
lectual ambition  which  induces  young  girls  to 
turn  their  faces  from  the  sanctuary  of  home  and 
yearn  for  the  altitudes — ^the  pinnacles  of  schol- 
arly fame  that  are  only  reached  after  a  lifetime 
of  labor — breaks  up  this  fair  dream  of  home, 

7i 


robs  It  of  its  fair  attractiveness  and  crushes  out 
that  instinct  which  makes  woman  the  altar  of 
civilization  and  the  moral  regenerator  of 
the  race. 

*    *    » 

You  perhaps  say  in  reply  that  all  this  higher 
education— this  study  of  Sanskrit,  Hebrew,  the 
Higher  Mathematics,  Goethe  and  the  literature 
of  Persia— will  make  her  a  stronger,  fuller 
and  better  woman  within  the  precincts  of  home 
Is  this  really  so?  Is  it  not  true  that  where 
thought  goes  the  heart  follows?  We  look  for 
long  years  of  apprenticeship  as  preparation  for 
life  s  work  of  head  and  hand.  The  intellectual 
training  obtained  through  four  years  of  legal 
study  in  the  absorption  of  Blackstone  or  Story 
will  not  do  for  the  setting  of  a  broken  bone  or 
the  diagnosis  of  a  complicated  case— why,  then, 
expect  that  a  course  in  higher  education  will 
fit  a  young  woman  for  the  responsibilities  of  a 
home?  They  are  not  one  whit  more  kindred 
than  law  or  medicine.  Each  requires  separate 
and  special  training,  and  it  is  folly  for  enthusi- 
asts to  declare  that  the  college-educated  woman 
IS  superior  within  the  home. 


In  the  first  place,  what  does  she  know  of 
home?  Till  the  age  of  eighteen  she  has  spent 
every  moment  of  her  life  in  preparation  for  en- 
trance into  the  university.  Her  next  four  years 
are  spent  in  the  laboratory,  library  or  lecture- 

79 


r  I 


roo'ii  of  the  university.  Now,  where  comes  in 
her  knowledge  of  home  ?  If  there  is  a  domestic 
science  what  does  she  or  what  can  she  know  of 
it?  When  her  husband  comes  home  from  the 
shop,  the  broker's  office  or  the  bank,  she  meets 
him  at  the  dinner  table  with  a  smile  and  an 
array  of  half-baked  cakes  and  love  flies  out  at 
the  window,  for  hr^v  can  love  and  a  bad  case  of 
dyspepsia  dwell  f  .gether?  She  may  be  able  to 
read  Plato  in  !-  -  original  and  talk  in  the  lost 
language  of  t.'  Goths,  but  what  do  these  at- 
tainments avail  her  in  the  presence  of  the  facts 
which  hold  sovereignty  in  her  household?  Her 
home,  after  all,  is  her  true  world  just  now  and 
should  and  must  be,  as  long  as  she  remains  a 
true  woman.  »     »     » 

But,  pray,  let  not  the  reader  mistake  my 
meaning  here.  I  do  not  or  would  not  glorify  the 
greatness  or  dignity  of  household  drudgery. 
There  is  no  dignity  in  labor  of  any  kind — it  is 
rather  the  spirit  in  which  we  perform  our  task 
that  lends  dignity  to  toil.  Dignity  belongs  to 
ourselves,  not  our  work.  What  more  dignity  is 
there  in  the  art  of  music  than  there  is  in  the 
science  which  presides  over  the  kitchen?  None 
whatever. 


80 


wm^T:  ■II    •mrr^s^K^simm 


,.  JUX^.  'i 


SOME  MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS 


71  STUDY  of  the  various  customs,  which  ob- 
»  Uin  in  different  countries,  in  the  matter 
of  engagements  between  voung  men  and  wo- 
men, might  be  worthy  of  a  place  in  our  "Chats," 
seemg  that  the  giving  in  marriage  is  not  at  all 
modern  bi;  caches  back  to  the  very  Garden  of 
tden.  I  take  it,  however,  that  the  prehminaries 
leadmg  up  to  the  engagement  of  Adam  and  Eve 
have  never  been  published.  All  we  know  is  ihat 
Adam  had  a  deep  sleep  and,  as  there  were  no 
elevated  railroads  around  Eden,  Adam  probablv 
put  extras  in  the  contract,  and  then,  after  the 
nb  was  removed  and  he  had  rubbed  his  wonder- 
ing eyes  well,  he  beheld  his  fiancee ;  but,  happily 
for  him,  no  mother-in-law  was  in  sight,  and  he 
had  not  to  produce  his  bank  cheque-book. 
*     *    * 

Ever  since  those  remote  days,  all  Eve's 
daughters  have  been  plighting  their  word  in 
marriage,  but  the  method  or  procedure  has 
changed  with  the  times,  and  to  note  this  varied 
method  is  the  purpose  of  my  "Chat"  to-day. 
»     *     * 

In  ancient  days  and,  indeed,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  children  were  betrothed  in  their  cradle, 

8i 


m 


and  frequently  mw  each  other  for  the  tint  time 
only  on  the  day  of  their  marriage.  This,  of 
courie,  saved  a  great  deal  of  the  expense  of  our 
modem  joy-rides,  excursions  and  private  boxes 
at  the  theater,  but  it  really  cut  out  also  all  the 
attendant  anxiety  and  fear  of  diplomatic 
smash-ups.  •    *    « 

In  no  other  country  in  the  world  is  such  free- 
dom accorded  young  women  and  men  engaged 
as  here  in  America.  The  nearest  approach  to 
this  is  in  Germany  and  Switzerland.  In  both 
of  these  countries  a  young  man  and  woman 
engaged  are  free  to  travel  together,  go  for  walks 
together,  attend  the  theater  and  all  social  re- 
unions without  any  chaperone.  In  England  and 
America  young  girls  become  engaged  at  their 
own  sweet  will  and  then  inform  their  parents  of 
the  affair.  *    *    * 

In  France,  where  the  marriage  of  "cob- 
venance"  prevails  largely,  and  where  the  dowry 
is  a  most  important  factor  in  the  marriage 
scheme,  the  young  man  can  never  see  his  in- 
tended bride  save  in  the  presence  of  her  par- 
ents, and  in  this  way  often  the  marriage  is  con- 
cluded between  two  young  persons  who  are 
well-nigh  strangers  to  each  other.  From  ray 
own  observations,  white  living  in  France,  I 
should  say  that  there  are  ten  marriages  with 
love  as  basis  here  in  America  for  one  of  the 

83 


Mme  kind  in  France.  And  yet,  I  am  not  «ure 
but  a  French  woman  can  hold  and  reuin  better 
the  love  of  her  husband  than  an  American  wo- 
man.    To  discuss  why,  would  take  me  too  far 

afield  'lere. 

♦    •    « 

In  Transylvania  a  marriage  fair  is  held  every 
year  for  young  giris.  The  fathers  drive  to  the 
market  with  their  most  precious  wealth— their 
daughters— in  a  carriage,  and,  when  they  have 
reached  the  place,  the  auction  commences.  The 
father  cries  out,  "I  have  a  daughter  to  marry; 
who  has  a  son  wishing  a  wife  ?"  They  wrangle 
over  the  dowry,  and  finally  the  agreement  is 
struck  after  much  haggling. 

•  »  * 
In  Lapland,  when  a  young  man  goes  to  ask 
the  hand  of  a  young  girl  in  marriage,  he  takes 
care  to  go  always  fortified  with  a  good  supply 
of  whisky.  In  fact,  in  order  that  the  bargain 
may  be  struck,  it  is  generally  necessary  to 
have  drunk  several  bottles  and  have  smoked 
several  packages  of  tobacco.  This  has  led 
among  the  Laplanders,  to  the  habit  of  prolong- 
ing the  engagement  as  much  as  possible— at 
least  one  or  two  years— so  that  the  presents  of 
whisky  and  tobacco  may  be  more  numerous 
and  multiplied. 


83 


•i-.;j  ^ 


««ciocory  ibouition  tki  cha«i 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHAIIT  No.  2) 


I.I 


1.8 


_^  APPLIED  IVMGE     In 

^K  165 J  Eoit  Main  Straat 

^^Z  Rochiilar,   N«b   York         14609        USA 

^jjg  (7'6)   483 -0300- Phorw 

EBB  (716)  2Ba-  5989  -Fax 


GOVERNMENT 


i  i 


FORMS  OF  GOVERNMENT 


W    ET  me  chat  with  my  readers  on  government 
**    and  systems  of  government  and  incident- 
ally  refer  to   parliamentary   procedure.     The 
English  Parliament  is  called  the  "Mother  of 
Parliaments"  and  perhaps  justly  so.    Generally 
speaking,  a  form  of  government  grows  out  of 
the  needs  of  the  people.    There  is  practically, 
then,  no  best  form  of  government.    There  are 
conditions  where  a  monarchy  is  best ;  there  are 
conditions  where  a  tempered  absolutism  works 
best;   there  are  conditions  where  nothing  but 
a  republic  or,  if  you  will,  democracy,  will  suit 
the  wishes  and  needs  of  the  people. 
*    *    * 
Here  in  our  own  country  republic?     institu- 
tions have  struck  down  their  roots        deeply 
that  a  change  to  any  other  form  of  government 
would  not  be  tolerated  by  the  people.    I  remem- 
ber well  when  President  Grant  returned  from 
girdling  the  world  in  the  seventies ;  he  was  so 
"ir  the  idol  of  the  people  that,  in  a  report  of  the 
eception  tendered  him,  I  think  it  was  in  New 
York,  one  of  the  papers,  quoting  Shakespeare's 
"Julius  Caesar,"  said,  "They  thrice  presented 

87 


■pl 


[ 


him  a  kingly  crown  which  he  did  thrice  refuse." 
So  as  far  back  as  the  seventies,  you  see,  there 
was  a  hint  of  imperialism  in  the  American  mind 
in  certain  quarters.  It  touches  the  pride  of  a 
ruler  to  wear  a  crown,  although  the  prince  of 
dramatists  has  said,  "Uneasy  lies  the  head  that 
wears  a  crown."       *    *     * 

But  the  air  cleared  and  the  White  House 
escaped  the  trappings  of  imperial  pomp  and 
show  and  our  country,  cradled  in  republ'^'nism, 
has  traveled  along  its  path  of  progress,  the  won- 
der and  admiration  of  the  nations  of  the  earth. 
This,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  its  footsteps 
have  been  and  are  to-day  beset  with  many  dan- 
gers. What  we  hope  will  always  save  this 
goodly  commonwealth  is  the  great  common 
sense  of  its  people,  for  Americans  are  emi- 
nently intuitive  and  practical. 


Now  intuitive  and  practical  seem  vt  first  sight 
to  be  at  variance  with  each  other.  Not  so,  how- 
ever. Intuitive  does  not  necessarily  mean  i-ieal- 
istic  or  theoretical,  but  rather  the  power  of  dis- 
cerning a  truth  through  experience,  without  any 
process  of  reasoning  or  deduction.  This  really 
valuable  gift,  I  hold,  Americans  possess  in  a 
high  degree,  and  this  with  their  great  common- 
sense  way  of  looking  at  things  will,  I  consider, 
hold  them  almost  always  within  the  orbit  of 
wise  government  and  free  from  national  crimes. 


Another  anu  a  greater  danger,   I  consider, 
threatens  the  life  of  our  commonwealth.    It  is 
the  loosening  of  the  moral  bonds  which  hold 
society  together.    Some  one  has  said  that,  were 
it  not  that  the  American  people  are  so  engrossed 
in  the  making  of  money,  their  moral  pace  would 
be  more  startling  than  that  of  France  of  to-day. 
But  the  truth  is  that  our  country  quite  outstrips 
the  France  of  to-day  in  many  of  its  besetting 
sins.    We  sometimes  smugly  forget  our  record. 
In  the  divorce  court  we  surpass  every  other 
nation  save  Japan,  which  has  three  times  as 
many  divorces  as  our  country,  while  we,  on  the 
other  Hand,  have  more  than  three  times  as  many 
divorces  as  France.     If  you  would  know  the 
dangers  that  beset  the  rule  of  the  people,  con- 
sider well  the  fact  that  aside  from  Japan,  which 
is    an   oriental    country    where    marriage    has 
never  been  considered  aught  but  a  civil  con- 
tract, the  three  foremost  republics  of  our  day — 
the   United  States,   France  and  Switzerland- 
lead  the  world  in  divorce— nay,  have  more  than 
five  times  as  many  divorces  as  all  the  other 
civilized  and  Christian  countries  put  together. 
Is  this  not  freedom  gone  mad? 


i  ■ , 


Again,  our  record  for  homicides  is  equally 
startling.  Dr.  Andrew  D.  White,  ex-president 
of  Cornell  University,  recently  pointed  out  that 
we  have  more  homicides  in  proportion  to  our 


population  than  any  three  countries  in  the 
world.  In  the  face  of  these  facts  it  is  difficult 
to  be  optimistic  for  our  future.  With  respect 
to  our  national  government,  yes ;  with  respect  ■ 
to  the  enforcement  of  law  and  order  and  the 
protection  of  life  and  the  observance  of  God's 
laws  delivered  on  Mount  Sinai,  the  future  of 
our  country  is  certainly  not  too  bright. 

*       4       * 

But  I  think  I  hear  you  say,  "Remove  the 
causes."  Yes,  but  these  causes  are  deep-seated 
and  many.  Only  the  teaching  of  the  Catholic 
Church  can  eventually  hold  our  country  in  its 
moral  orbit.  When  the,  moral  mercury  drops 
low  at  the  portals  of  our  homes  no  legislation, 
however  well  directed,  can  rectify  it.  This 
thing  is  from  God  and  is  not  of  the  councils  of 
men.  Civic  order  may  indeed  be  restored  and 
the  protection  of  life  secured  and  crime  in  the 
public  eye  reduced,  but  the  altar  of  the  home 
around  which  kneels  the  nation  is  tended  by 
acolytes  of  faith  and  hope  and  love — obedience 
to  the  Divine  will  and  a  hearkening  to  those 
spiritual  guides  —  the  priesthood  of  God  —  to 
whom  has  been  entrusted  the  salvation  of 
our  souls. 


90 


LITERATURE 


h 


LYRIC  PO.  -7Jiy 


1  ET  me  chat  to-day  about  the  lyric  as  a  fcT.i 
■^  of  poetry.  The  lyric,  of  course,  is  entirely 
personal— purely  subjective.  It  deals  with  an 
emotion.  It  is  always  simple  not  complex,  and 
he  is  the  best  writtr  of  lyrics  who  lays  bare  in 
simple  and  direct  language  the  sentiment  which 
sways  his  heart.       *     *     ■» 

The  lyric  at  times  stirs  up  the  drama,  the  bal- 
lad and  sometimes  the  epic,  tHou^h  its  pres- 
ence is  felt  tut  little  in  the  latter.    It  also  abides 
in  the   sonnet  and  the  ode.    Take  for  instance 
Shakespeare's  tragedy  of  Romeo  and  Juliet- 
its  very  flood-light  is  the  lyrical.     Never  did 
emotion  in  a  drama  hold  the  stage  in  i'     ■  ,s- 
session  as  in  this  beautiful  lyrical  drama.    The 
minor  chord  of  portending  catastrophe  for  the 
"star-crossed"  lovers  rings  through  it  from  the 
outset,  and  pity  and  sighs  form  its  sad  course. 
*    *     * 
Every   country   in   the   worn,    has   its   lyric 
writers  and,  unlike  to  the  drama,  the  lyric  has 
not  found  expression  in  epochs,  for  it  belongs 
equally  to  every  age.    To-day  Germany  is  de- 
cidedly richer  in  lyrics  than  any  other  country 
of  Europe     This  can  easily  be  accounted  for. 
The  Germans  are  full  of  sentiment— patriotic, 

93 


convivial,  amoroui.    German  poetry  i»  full  oJ 
love  songs,  and  the  Teuton  cares  not  if  the 
whole  world  knows  that  he  is  fast  in  the  meshes 
of  love    Travel,  for  instance,  through  Germa«y 
and  you  will  meet  these  "verlobt"  parties  m  the 
compartments  of  the  trains,  and  they  will  take 
a  particular  pride  in  telling  you  how  long  they 
are  engaged.    You  will  find  a  good  deal  of  the 
same  frankness  in  the  English  people. 
•    *    ♦ 
The  poetry  of  Scotland  is  also  very  rich  in 
lyrics.    The  Scottish  nature  is  deep  and  warm 
and  convivial,  albeit  in  sentiment  it  is  under 
certain  circumstances  cautious  and  reserved. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  match  Bums  as  a  lync 
po»t,  though  for  finish  and  delicacy  of  thought 
he  is  not  equal  to  Tom  Moore.    Burns  lyrics 
have  the  fragrance  of  the  heather  and  the  joy 
of  the  wind-swept  waste  in  them.    He  is  essen- 
tially the  lyric  poet  of  democracy,  and  his  notes 
of  independence  and  freedom  have  a  double 
value,  seeing  that  they  had  birth  in  a  time  when 
class  distinction  dominated  his  native  land. 
•    •    • 
Irish  lyrics  have  a  tenderness  and  flavor  all 
their  own.    The  love  ly.ic  of  Ireland  is  made  up 
of  homage  and  extravagance.    Compared  with 
the  confession  of  love  vowed  by  an  Insh  wooer 
the  warm  sentences  of  Romeo  in  the  moonlit 
garden  of  Verona  are  but  as  water  unto  winr. 
It  goes  vrithout  saying,  therefore,  that  an  Insh- 

94 


man  is  the  best  wooer  in  the  world.  Hit  Icini- 
man  m  Brittai.y  is  of  a  Uke  nature.  So  both 
Brittany  and  Ireland  are  rich  in  love  !•  'cs 
The  courts  of  love  that  marked  the  home  ol  the 
ancient  troubadour  have  not  yet  in  either  land 
fo  ded  their  tents  like  the  Arabs  and  silently 
stolen  away."  •     •     » 

The  greatest  patriotic  lyric  ever  written  was 
composed  b)  a  Frenchman— De  Lisle.    Yet  its 
greatness  abides  in  the  music  rather  than  in  the 
words      The  Marseillaise  •;  the  most  stirring 
martial  lyric  ever  compos-^d.  though,  as  I  have 
indicated  already,  its  words  do  not  amount  to 
much.    But  ^ts  music  is  superb.    It  has  all  the 
proud  soaring  ardor  of  "la  belle  France"  in  its 
every  note.    People  who  sing  such  a  sor  •  could 
never  be  a  subject  people.     It  is  ke      I  in  a 
tneasure  of  triumph.    Its  every  note,    ...y  and 
thnlling,  denotes  victory. 
*    »     * 
We  have  been  too  busy  in  .\merica  to  pro- 
duce a  great  body  of  lyrics,  nor  has  our  national 
song  yet   been   written.     Neither  "The   Star- 
Spangled  Banner"  nor  "America"  nor  the  "Bat- 
tle Hymn  of  the  Republic"  voices  the  heart  of 
this  great  and  growing  land.    Some  day  it  will 
be  wntten  and  it  will  thrill.    The  land  of  the 
Maple  set  under  the  stars  of  the  North  has 
lound  a  noble,  patriotic  expression  in  the  beau- 

tUrdJ^'^"-''^    -°''   °'   »    ^'^^^ 

95 


THE  TRUE  POET 


Hi 


( - 


m 


ii-i 


IT  is  said  that  every  one  is  a  poet  in  embryo. 
The  shepherd  who  stands  upon  the  hillside 
to  look  at  the  rainbow— the  covenant  of  Gods 
promise  set  in  the  he:,  ■  ens-or  the  wamng  sun 
as  it  sinks  to  rest  while,  as  the  Elizabethan  poet 
savs,  all  nature  blushes  at  the  performance,  is 
quite  as  much  the  poet  as  the  inspired  singer 
of  lofty  rhymes,  though  he  may  not  have  em- 
bodied his  souWreams  in  the  measured  music 
of  verse.  »    *     * 

Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  your  true  poet 
is  something  more  than  a  '°-«.  °' ^eauty.    The 
first  essential  of  a  true  poem  is  that  >t  should 
have  pulse  in  its  lines-that  there  should  be  a 
soul-current  bearing  it  up-that  its  music  be  the 
notes  of  true  inspiration.     It  will  be  remem- 
bered that  Edgar  Allen  Poe,  no  mean  authority 
as  to  the  true  principles  of  poetry    maintains 
in  his  essay  on  "The  Poetic  Principle    that  no 
long  poem  can  be  true  poetry.    TJe  author  o 
'm:  Raven"  and  "The  Fall  of  the  House  of 
Usher"  would  thereby  exclude  such  poems  as 
Milton's    "Paradise    Lost,"    Goethe  s      Faust 
and  Dante's  "Divine  Comedy." 

96 


The  great  misuke  made  to-day  in  the  ap- 
praisement of  poetry  is  that  we  magnify  tech- 
nique and  the  artistic,  forgetting  that,  after  all, 
neither  one  nor  the  other  constitutes  the  su- 
preme life  or  value  of  a  true  poem.  We  have 
this  artistic  sense  so  overdone  that  in  ninety 
per  cent  of  the  poems  that  appear  in  our  cur- 
rent magazines  there  is  no  evidence  of  the  least 
inspiration,  nor  is  there  any  thought  that  could 
not  be  just  as  well  expressed  in  prose  form. 


There  are  writers  of  verse  to-day  who,  while 
their  wings  do  not  trail  ir.  the  dust,  move  along 
so  low  a  plane  that  their  poetry,  if  indeed  it 
may  be  termed  poetry,  has  caught  the  color  and 
stain  of  the  earth.  How  far  the  late  Francis 
Thompson  was  removed  from  this  those  who 
have  read  his  great  poem,  "The  Hound  of 
Heaven,"  know  full  well.  Thompson  is  the  very 
best  exemplar  of  what  I  am  contending  for— 
that  poetry  is  of  the  soul— it  is  vision ;  it  is  im- 
agination ;  it  is  fire.  Yes,  fire,  from  the  altar  of 
true  inspiration,  borne  by  the  thurifers  of  God, 
who  stand  eternally  at  the  altar  of  Truth  and 
Beauty  and  serve  God  in  the  great  temple 
of  Life.  ,     ,    ^ 

There  is  no  doubt  that  here  in  America  we 
have  been  paying  too  much  tribute  to  mere 
artistry  in  poetry.     Just  analyze  the  work  of 

97 


such  poets  as  Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  Ed- 
mund Clarence  Stedman,  Thomas  Bailey  Aid- 
rich  and  Richard  Watson  Gilder,  aU  ot  the 
artistic  school,  and  you  will  readily  recognize 
that  all  four  lack  the  real  pulse  of  poetry— the 
divine  fire  ot  inspiration.  It  is  quite  true  that 
all  four  have  written  some  charming  poems,  full 
of  the  glow  of  beauty  and  hallowed  as  the  breath 
and  memory  of  a  sacred  shrine,  but  they  lack 
that  miracle  of  thought,  that  Patmos  of  the  soul, 
which  gives  our  earth  hints  and  glints  of  the 
spiritual  beauty  beyond— which  expresses  life 
in  terms  of  eternity  set  to  the  music  and  melody 
of  eternal  beauty.    ,    *    * 

The  true  poet  is  a  prophet  of  the  people  and, 
if  true  to  the  gifts  given  him  of  God,  will  lead 
the  world  to  the  higher  tablelands  of  life  and 
living.  He  has  been  consecrated  for  his  divine 
office  of  song  by  a  gift  of  God,  and,  if  he  does 
not  turn  from  his  high  vocation  and  look  down 
towards  Camelot,  he  will  assuredly  bless  the 
earth,  and  the  seedlings  of  his  grace  will  take 
root  and  blossom  in  all  the  gardens  of  mankmd. 


98 


THE  TECHNIQUE  OF  POETBT 


T*  TO-DAY  my  chat  shall  be  academic  and  in- 
*  tended  more  particulary  for  those  who 
arc  interested  in  poetry  on  the  side  of  its  tech- 
nique. It  is  Mrs.  Browning  who  says  that  every 
spirit  builds  its  own  house.  To  my  mind  much 
time  is  lost  in  many  of  our  schools  and  colleges 
studying  the  technique  of  poetry,  quite  apart 
from  the  feeling  or  emotion  which,  through  its 
unifying  action,  shapes,  fashions  and  molds  the 
whole  poem.  «    ,    * 

Be  assured  that  when  the  inspiration  is  strong 
and  the  fires  burning  at  their  full  height  metre, 
melody,  rhyme  and  all  the  coefficients  of  poetic 
expression  will  take  care  of  themselves.  This  is 
what  Mrs.  Browning  means  when  she  says  that 
every  spirit  builds  its  own  house. 


A  study  of  the  technique  of  any  art  is  unques- 
tionably interesting  and  of  value,  but  it  is  not  a 
primary  factor  in  the  study  of  art,  and  to  em- 
phasize it  as  such  is  to  lose  sight  of  the  function 
and  meaning  of  all  art.    Take,  for  instance,  the 

99 


vocal  interpretation  of  poetry.  Only  through 
a  comprehension  of  the  thought,  which  begets 
sympathy  and  thereby  places  the  reader  in  the 
position  and  mood  of  the  writer  of  the  poem, 
can  anv  reader  hope  to  achieve  success. 


The  laws  or  principles  that  govern  any  art 
flow  out  of  the  divine  essence  or  energy  of  the 
art— whether  the  art  be  poetry,  sciilpture,  music 
or  painting.     Indeed,  imagination  and  feelmg 
constitute  almost  the  whole  of  art.    Take  these 
out  of  poetry  and  what  have  you  got?    For  m- 
stance,  rob  the  work  of  Shakespeare  or  Dante, 
Milton  or  Goethe  of  imagination  or  feehng,  and 
you  make  these  poets  poor,  indeed. 
*     *     * 
All  forms  of  poetry,  too,  seek  their  own  ap- 
propriate metre,  verse  and  stanza.    1  ook  at  de- 
scriptive poetry,  for  instance,  or  narrative  or 
didactic.     It  has  a  metre  peculiar  to  itself— a 
metre  which  grows  out  of  the  needs  of  the 
theme.    Tennyson  never  could  have  built  up  his 
great  metaphysical  poem  and  elegy  "In  Me- 
moriam,"  had  he  employed  a  stanza  in  which 
the  first  and  third  lines  rhymed,  for  it  would 
have  stemmed  and  stopped  the  flow  of  his  great 
organ  thought,  which  keys  so  sublimely  this 
whole  cathedral  of  song. 


How  well  poetic  thought  laden  with  the  full 
fire  of  inspiration  seeks  out  its  own  metre  is 
seen  in  such  poems  as  Browning's  "How  They 
Brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  to  Aix" 
and  Tom  Hood's  "Bridge  of  Sighs."  Notice 
the  hurry  and  commotion  in  the  first  and  the 
strain  of  nervous  tension  and  pathos  in  the  sec- 
ond, and  how  well  the  flow  of  verse  voices  or 
reflects  both.  ,     ,     , 

Perhaps  the  greatest  master  of  melody  among 
modern  English  poets  was  Swinburne.  Yet, 
there  are  passages  in  Tennyson  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  match.  This  ear  for  fine  melody 
on  the  part  of  the  poet  is  a  distinct  gift  in  itself. 
Spenser  possessed  it  in  a  high  degree.  Indeed, 
it  may  be  questioned  if  any  other  English  poet 
equals  the  author  -  i  tiie  "Faerie  Queen"  in  the 
melodious  marshalling  of  words. 


Then  we  have  that  strange  poetic  genius  and 
friend  of  Wordsworth's,  Coleridge,  whose  two 
poems,  "Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner"  and 
"Christabel,"  are  full  of  passages  of  wonderful 
melody.  Nor  should  we  forget  Shelley  —  the 
ethereal  Shelley,  who  spread  his  poetic  wings  in 
air  so  rare  and  high  that  never  before  had  gen- 
ius sought  to  sail  such  distant  seas  of  thought, 
nor  sing  from  summits  that  seemed  to  pierce 


the  blue  pavilion  of  heaven.  These  then  are  the 
great  masters  of  poetic  melody — Spenser,  Cole- 
ridge, Shelley,  Tennyson  and  Swinburne. 


h. 


Speaking  of  the  melody  in  Tennyson's  poetry 
reminds  me  that,  while  the  author  of  "The 
Idylls  of  the  King"  has  rarely  been  surpassed 
as  a  master  of  melody,  he  was  never  able  to 
achieve  any  success  as  a  musician.  Browning, 
however,  though  his  verse  is  often  rugged,  zig- 
zag and  full  of  strange  stops,  was  a  musician  of 
far  more  than  ordinary  gifts.  How  paradoxical 
then  is  not  genius.  We  think  of  Dante  Gabriel 
Rossetti,  who,  it  is  said,  should  have  painted  his 
poems  and  written  his  paintings.  Perhaps  in 
the  case  of  Rossetti  and  Browning  the  fires  of 
inspiration  did  not  bum  strong  enough. 


I    i 


SOME  IRISH  AUTHORS 


^fc  WORD  with  my  reader  about  Irish  au- 
**  thors.  Is  there  a  national  poet  of  Ire- 
land in  the  sense  that  Schiller  represents  Ger- 
many or  Bums  represents  Scotland  and,  if  there 
is  one,  who  is  he?  Of  course  the  name  of  Tom 
Moore  at  once  leaps  to  the  lips.  But  was 
Moore  really  an  Irish  national  poet? 
*  •  • 
I  scarcely  think  the  author  of  the  "Irish  Mel- 
odies" and  "Lallah  Rookh"  can  be  said  to  have 
voiced  Ireland  in  national  hopes  and  her  dear- 
est dreams.  Moore  was  never  the  poet  of  the 
common  people  as  Bums  was,  yet  he  did  a  great 
work  for  Ireland,  especially  among  the  upper 
classes  of  the  English,  for  his  beautiful  lyrics 
penetrated  the  drawing-rooms  of  England — 
drawing-rooms  alien  to  himself  and  his  ideals. 


Nor  can  it  be  denied  that  the  poet  breathed 
an  Irish  soul  into  his  work.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, that  Moore  is  not  only  the  sweetest  of  all 
Irish  lyric  writers  but  the  sweetest  song 
writer  of  the  English-speaking  world.    Thert  is 

103 


a  mingling  of  melody  and  Celtic  witchery  in  his 
lines,  but  he  is  really  not  an  Irish  poet  of  patri- 
otic action  and  inspiration. 


Hi 


Nor  can  Moore  be  called  a  poet  of  the  "Irish 
Cause" — not  at  least  iti  the  sense  that  Thomas 
Davis  was.  Take  Davis'  "The  West's  Awake." 
Why,  there  is  more  fire  in  its  lines  than  in  all 
Tom  Moore  ever  wrote.  Yet  I  would  not  have 
you  believe  that  I  depreciate  Tom  Moore.  He 
is  a  glorious  child  of  Erin,  rocked  and  dandled 
and  lulled  to  patriotic  iCSt  by  the  admiring 
throngs  of  English  drawing-rooms. 


The  destruction  of  Ireland's  nationality  was 
the  destruction  of  her  art.  What  Irish  genius 
might  have  done,  had  it  not  beaten  its  wounded 
and  bleeding  wing  against  the  iron  bars  of  op- 
pression, we  know  not.  I  make  no  aoubt,  had 
Ireland  been  free  to  fashion  her  immortal 
dreams  in  marble  or  on  the  canvas  or  in  lofty 
rhyme  or  in  the  sub.'e  notes  of  song,  perhaps 
we  would  have  had  an  Irish  Michael  Angelo  or 
an  Irish  Dante  or  an  Irish  Raphael  or  an  Irish 
Wagner.  «    *    * 

But  Ireland  is  young  yet  in  the  plenitude  of 
spiritual  power.  She  is  just  now  being  taken  to 
the  font  for  national  baptism.  She  has  yet  to 
feel   her    life    in   every   limb.     The    youngest 

104 


amongst  us  may  see  such  a  renaissance  of  Irish 
art  as  will  astonish  the  world.  She  has,  thank 
God,  the  spiritual  endowment,  and  that  means 
everything.  ,     ,     , 

Nor  as  yet  has  the  Irish  novel  been  written. 
Carleton  and  Lever  and  Banim  and  Maria 
Edgeworth  and  Gerald  Griffin  have  given  us 
something,  but  that  something  falls  far  below 
the  possibilities  in  Irish  fiction.  No  one  has 
yet  portrayed  in  fiction  the  eternal  heart  of  Ire- 
land. Perhaps  this  will  be  done  by  an  Irish 
exile.  It  is  only  when  separated  from  our 
mother  that  we  fully  value  her  tenderness 
and  love.  t    *     * 

I  would  like  to  see  a  greater  appreciation  of 
the  Celt  in  literature.  I  would  like  our  Irish 
societies  to  bring  out  in  their  programs  what 
Irish  genius  stands  for — its  sublimity,  its  rev- 
erence, its  vision,  its  spirituality.  The  soul  of 
the  Celt  rests  upon  the  mountain  peaks  of  life, 
under  the  tents  of  God,  with  the  stars  for  altar 
tapers  drenched  in  the  eternal  dews  of  heaven. 


I 


loS 


A  WORD  ABOUT  TRANSLATIONS 


V  DESIRE  to  chat  to-day  with  my  readers 
'  about  translations  of  English  classics  that 
are  i.iade  in  various  foreign  languages.  Every 
stud:nt  who  has  ever  taken  a  college  arts  course 
knows  full  well  the  help  and  danger  that  lurk  in 
translations — help  if  these  translations  are  used 
wisely  and  judiciously,  danger  if  they  are  used 
as  a  "pony"  to  bear  up  and  land  the  student 
across  the  stream  of  examinations,  without 
having  to  buf!et  the  st^'ong  current  of  toil 
and  study.  «     *     * 

I  regard  translation  as  the  supreme  test  of 
language  study  and  language  acquirement.  To 
translate  an  ode  of  Horace  into  good  English 
verse  one  must  know  well  Horatian  Latin,  as 
well  as  its  equivalent  in  English. 


The  late  Professor  Goldwin  Smith  could  make 
the  most  accurate  and  felicitous  translation  of 
Latin  verse  that  I  have  ever  known.  And  why? 
Simply  because,  in  the  first  place,  he  was  a  dis- 
tinguished Latin  scholar,  and,  in  the  second 
place,  he  had  a  command  of  English  possessed 
by  few  other  scholars  in  our  day. 

io6 


One  of  the  moit  difficult  of  tranilationi  U 
Shakespeare.  The  great  matter  dramatist,  as 
is  well  known,  is  translated  into  well-nigh  all 
the  Eur'  -an  languages,  but  German  scholars 
have  succeeded  much  the  best  in  this  effort  or 
task.  There  are  two  reasons  for  this :  German 
scholars  are  both  thorough  and  painstaking, 
and  again  Shakespearean  mode  of  thought  is 
much  more  kindred  to  the  German  mind  than 
it  is  to  either  the  French,  Italian  or  Spanish 

mind. 

*    •    * 

For,  after  all,  if  you  leave  out  the  Celtic  ele- 
ment— that  mystery  and  magic  which  run  like 
a  golden  thread  through  so  many  of  his  plays 
and  which  is  essentially  Celtic— Shakespeare  is 
a  literary  cousin  of  the  master  poets  of  Ger- 
many, though  separated  from  them  by  a  gulf 
of  many  years.  Again,  aside  from  the  mode  of 
thought,  if  you  leave  out  the  Latinized  words 
how  close  do  not  the  German  words  come  to 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  especially  in  their  social  and 
suggestive  meaning? 


Taken  in  all,  however, the  Italians  do  into  their 
mother  tongue  more  foreign  classics  than  any 
people  in  Europe.  Why,  it  is  simply  amazing 
what  a  knowledge  a  well  educated  Italian  wo- 

107 


'^i 


man  has  of  Byron,  Tennyion,  Longfellow, 
Shalr.eipcarc,  at  well  ai  tuch  proae  writers  at 
Rutkin  and  Macauiay.  I  will  hazard  the  opin- 
ion that  to-day  in  Rome  can  be  found  ten  timet 
as  many  women  who  have  read  the  playt  of 
Shakespeare  and  the  poems  of  Longfellow,  as 
there  are  Chicago  women  who  know  Dante  and 
Carducci.  Yet  we  sometimes  smugly  consider 
ourselves  superior  to  the  woiM. 


Let  me  here  give  first  the  English  text  of 
Longfellow's  beautiful  sonnet  on  the  "Divme 
Comedy"  of  Dante,  which  usually  precedes  in 
our  poet's  translation  of  the  Florentine's  great 
trilogy,  the  "Inferno": 

Oft  have  I  seen  st  some  cathedrAl  door 
A  laborer,  pausing  io  the  duit  and  heat. 
Lay  down  his  burden,  and  with  reverent  feet 

Enter,  and  cross  himself,  and  on  the  floor 

Kneel  to  repeat  his  paternoster  o'er; 
Far  ofl  the  noises  of  the  world  retreat; 
The  loud  vociferations  of  the  street 

Beiome  an  undistinituishable  roar. 

So,  as  I  enter  here  from  day  to  day. 
And  leave  my  burden  at  this  minster  gi.te, 

Kneeling  in  prayer  and  not  ashamed  to  pray. 
The  tumult  of  the  time  disconsolate 
To  inarticulate  murmurs  dies  away. 
While  the  eternal  ages  watch  and  wait 

Io8 


Now  here  is  a  German  translation  of  thit 
beautiful  aonnet.  How  far  the  translator,  un- 
known to  me,  has  caught  the  spirit,  the  reader 
having  a  good  knowledge  of  German  may 
judge : 

Oft   »ah   an    Pfortcn   manchcr   Kathedracic 
Ich  cinfn  Wcrksmann  drr  vor  Staub  und  Schwuele, 
Sein   Bundet  hinwarf  und  im   NahRcfuehlt 

Der  Gotthcit  .lich  bckrcuzt  an  dem  Portale 
Manch   Patcrnuiter   sprach   vcrklaerl   vom   Strahit 
Dtr  Andacht.  cr  in   solcher  dutt  gen   Kurhic; 

D«r  Slrassen   Laerm.  das  laule  Marktgcwuehlt, 

Ward  leis'  Gcsunime  hier  mil  einem   Male. 

So  mag  ich  buerdelos.   mit  tacglich   neu 
Erweckter  Inbrunst  auch  zum   Mucnster  schreiten 
Und  knieend  beten — beten  sonder  Schril 

Da  stirbt  mir  der  Tumult  trostloser  Zciten 
Verhallend   im   Oermurmet   bin, — doch   treu 

Unsteht  die  Hochwacht  mich  der  Ewigkeiten. 


lu; 


SNOBS.  FADS  AND 
CUSTOMS 


AS  TO  8\OB8  AND  SXOBBERY 


*pHE  subject  of  my  chat  to-day  will  be  snob- 
*  bery.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the 
great  English  novelist,  Thackeray,  has  a  book 
on  snobs,  and  any  one  who  observes  — who 
trave'  with  what  the  French  say,  "les  yeux 
grands  ouverts,"  eyes  wide  open— cannot  but 
see  that  every  land  has  its  snobs.  Thackeray 
certamly  had  no  lack  of  subjects  in  England, 
for,  if  there  is  any  land  in  the  whole  world 
cursed  by  snobbery,  it  is  England.  Your  Eng- 
lish snob  is  the  fullest  fledged  of  any. 
*     *     * 

Some  few  weeks  ago  Jcseph  Smith,  a  member 
of  the  Papyrus  Club  of  Boston,  and  an  intimate 
friend  and  admirer  of  the  late  John  Boyle 
O'Reilly  and  James  Jeffrey  Roche,  contributed 
a  paper  on  "Snobs  and  Snobbery"  to  the  Phila- 
delphia Saturday  Evening  Post.  This  paper 
was  very  cleverly  written  and  treated  of  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  snobs.  In  this  paper  Mr.  Smith 
.says  that  a  true  man  seeks  eminence  while 
a  snob  seeks  prominence;    the  one  fame,  the 

"3 


iu. 


5  i: 


II 


other  notoriety;  one  struggles  for  a  place  in 
the  heart  and  history  of  the  age ;  the  other  for 
a  position  in  the  eye  and  car  of  his  generation. 

*  *    * 

Easy  money,  says  Mr.  Smith,  is  the  fertilizer 
of  the  soil  in  which  snobbery  flourishes;  easy 
money  is  the  mother  of  vulgarity,  pretense  and 
ostentation;  the  maker  of  the  Iiabits  and  man- 
ners that  clothe  the  newly  rich  like  ill-fitting 
garments.  v     *     * 

In  England  you  will  not  find  much  snobbery 
among  the  nobility.  They  have  secured  long 
ago  their  position.  They  are  not  striving  to  be 
in  the  public  eye;  they  are  in  the  public  eye 
without  any  striving. 

*  *    * 

In  England  it  is  the  middle  class — the  imita- 
tors, the  would-be  aristocracy,  what  the  French 
call  "les  poseurs" — who  thrust  every  day  snob- 
bery in  your  face.  Of  course,  the  women  are 
the  greatest  sinners  in  this  respect — they  it  is 
who  in  every  land  divide  up  society  into  "sets" 
and  curse  social  life  with  either  "small  talk"  or 
scandal.  When  you  get  a  noble  woman,  really 
intellectual  and  yet  unassuming,  she  is  verily 
an  altar  before  which  to  worship,  but  perhaps 
the  greatest  weakness  in  the  wh,)le  feminine 
make-up  is  that  she  is  so  given  to  playing  a  role 
— that  sh»  rarely  is  what  she  seems. 

»"4 


Man  is  conceited,  but  woman  is  vain,  and 
herein  lies  the  difference  between  the  twain. 
Did  you  ever  observe  two  women,  ambitious  to 
appear  other  than  they  are,  become  acquainted 
for  the  first  time?  It  runs  something;  like  this : 
"I'm  delighted  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Blank.  So 
you're  from  Detroit?  My  husband  is  well  ac- 
quainted  there.     By  the   way,   do  you   know 

Colonel ?    He's  the  /ice-president  of  the 

Michigan  Central,  and  a  great  friend  of  ex- 
President  Roosevelt.  When  the  ex-President 
goes  to  Detroit,  he  always  stays  with  him." 
"No,  I  am  not  acquainted  with  him,  but  I  have 
a  friend  who  knows  him  well.  By  the  way,  are 
you   acquainted  in   Chicago?     Do  you   know 

Judge   ,   who   is  spoken   of  as   President 

Taft's  choice  for  the  vacancy  in  the  Supreme 
Court?"  ,     .     . 

This  is  assuredly  a  species  of  snobbery  and 
a  species  very  common.  Then  we  have  intel- 
lectual snobbery — the  desire  to  appe.ir  learned. 
Look  to-dpy  at  the  rush  that  is  made  to  appear 
in  portrait  in  the  papers,  all  of  which  is  a  vulgar 
thirst  for  notoriety,  and  this  in  itself  is  of  the 
very  breath  and  life  of  veritable  snobbery. 


Why,  a  few  little  girls  cannot  graduate  in 
some  elementary  school,  having  acquired  the 
rudiments  of  spelling,  arithmetic  and  geog- 
raphy, but  their  friends  move  heaven  and  earth 

"S 


— and  the  editors,  to  get  their  photos  in  the 
papers.  Time  was  when  appearing  in  portrait 
with  a  "write  up"  in  a  paper  signified  distin- 
guished merit — in  authorship,  scholarship,  art 
or  philanthropy,  but  that  time  has  passed  and 
real  merit  now,  instead  of  being  distinguished, 
has  become  mediocrized — vulgarized.  An^  all 
this  is  snobbery.      *     *    * 

I  must  confess  that  I  have  found  less  snob- 
bery in  France  than  in  any  other  country  in  the 
world.  The  Frenchman  is  not  without  his 
faults,  but  snobbery  is  certainly  not  one  of  them. 
Charge  him  with  artificiality  and  insincerity  in 
his  courtesy  and  politeness  if  you  will,  you  can- 
not charge  him  with  being  a  snob.  I  think  the 
reason  for  this  is  found  in  the  {act  that  your 
Frenchman  appreciates  too  well  values  and  real 
merit  to  countenance  sham  even  for  a  moment. 
Of  course,  under  the  republic,  France  has  in 
this  respect  degenerated,  and  the  conferring  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor  has  no  longer  the  value 
it  used  to  have  in  the  beauteous  land  of  St. 
Genevieve.  *     »     » 

Next  to  England,  Prussia  in  Germany  has  the 
most  snobbery  in  the  world.  The  Rhinelanders 
and  the  Bavarians  are  devoid  of  it.  They  are 
too — what  the  Germans  call  "gemuethlich" — 
amiable  to  be  snobbish,  but  the  Prussian — 
whew  I  "stolz,"  "kalt" — overbearing.  It  is  said 
that  an  Englishman  dearly  loves  a  lord — yes, 
and  a  German  dearly  loves  a  title. 
Il6 


AS  TO  FAD^ 


71  WORD  with  my  readers  about  "fads."  As- 
suredly there  is  an  abundance  of  them  in 
this  our  day.  I  suppose  they  always  existed,  but 
the  craze  for  novelty  ever  grows  stronger  and 
normal  life  and  living,  normal  points  of  view 
normal  thought,  normal  atmosphere,  seem  to 
be  yielding  more  and  more  to  the  erratic  and 
ab.iorma  .  thus  creating  an  unhealthy  condi- 
tion of  life. 

*    •    » 

Could  we,  however,  go  back  to  the  days  of 
the  Caesars  we  would  find  that  under  Roman 
skies  civilization  had  its  fads,  and  leaders  of 
fads.  The  world  has  had  and  always  will  have 
characters  neither  well  poised  nor  normal,  no 
matter  under  what  star  they  may  happen  to  be 
born.  The  hobble  skirt  and  the  merry  widow 
headgear  were  no  doubt  unknown  to  Fulvia  and 
Agrippina,  but  these  Roman  matrons,  too,  had 
their  fashion  fads. 

We  sometimes  blame  women  for  being  more 
given  to  fads  than  men,  but  it  is  largely  a  mat- 
ter of  temperament.  Then,  too,  while  the  char- 
acter of  woman  has  changed  less  through  the 
centuries  than  that  of  man,  the  adventitious  in 

"7 


I  n 


her  nature  has  undergone  greater  changes.  It 
you  study  the  "modes"  of  the  last  five  centuries 
you  will  see  that,  save  in  knee-breeches,  buck- 
led shoes  and  the  time-honored  ruffles  —  of 
course  not  forgetting  wigs — man's  attire  has 
been  largely  constant. 

*  «     * 

But  the  case  is  not  so  with  woman.  Every 
half  century — nay,  quarter  century — has  com- 
pletely transformed  her,  as  set  forth  in  the  fash- 
ion plates.  Yet  a  good  reason  can  be  given 
for  this.  The  artistic  in  woman  is  pronounced, 
while  in  man  it  is  only  accidental.  A  few  men 
study  good  taste  in  dress,  while  woman  ever 
reads  its  volume  from  cover  to  cover.  Of 
course  there  are  exceptions,  but  generally 
speaking  a  woman  short  in  stature  and  great  in 
longitude  knows  better  than  to  gown  in  an  equa- 
torial check  so  loud  that  it  may  be  heard  and 
seen  across  the  street. 

*  «     * 

Perhaps  woman  is  more  erratic  in  her  fads  in 
art  than  in  anything  else.  She  will  study  Jap- 
anese art,  whose  inspiring  conception  is  as  full 
of  splendor  as  sunbeams  and  no  more  coherent, 
while  she  knows  absolutely  nothing  of  Christian 
art  as  developed  through  the  Byzantine,  the 
Renaissance  or  modern  school.  I  once  saw  an 
audience  of  women  entertained  by  a  Japanese 
lecturer,  his  subject  being  Japanese  Art,  and 

Il8 


whose  little  barking  voice  could  not  be  heard 
beyond  the  third  row  of  seats,  and  I  would  be 
willing  to  wager  a  Klondike  mine  that  not  a 
woman  present  at  the  lecture  could  give  the 
names  of  five  great  Italian  painters.  They  v/nre 
simply  chasing  a  fad. 

•  *    • 

It  may  be  accepted  as  a  certainty  that  every- 
thing that  departs  from  the  normal— in  life,  lit- 
erature or  art— is  an  injury  to  character  develop- 
ment. So  all  women  of  our  day  who  forget  the 
purposes  of  true  womanhood  really  retard  the 
progress  of  our  race.  The  same  applies  to  men. 
Your  effeminate  man  puts  back  the  dial  hands 
of  civilization  and  progress. 

*  *     • 

If  we  could  only  put  these  faddists  in  straight 
jackets  as  motley-colored  as  their  views,  and 
keep  them  confined  in  a  comer  of  God's  earth 
where  they  would  not  "stain  the  white  radiance 
of  eternity,"  giving  them  rair'jow  toys  to  play 
with  and  cheap  mirrors  to  rellect  their  own 
vanity,  why,  then,  civilization  would  not  suffer. 
The  dreams  of  poets  would  soon  be  realized, 
for  the  true  ideals  of  the  soul,  not  warped  bv 
faddists,  would  find  expression  in  our  lives  and 
would  thereby  link  the  truth  and  beauty  of  this 
earth  to  the  sp'-ndor  of  heaven. 


119 


SOME  CUSTOMS 


NO  one  who  has  traveled  to  any  extent  in  the 
various  countries  of  Europe  but  must 
have  noticed  what  marked  difference  exists  in 
the  customs  of  the  different  peoples.  These  cus- 
toms have  grown  out  of  the  life  of  the  people 
and  are  really  a  very  part  of  it.  For  instance.the 
Carnival  celebration  preceding  Ash  Wednesday 
is  now  so  fixed  in  the  life  of  the  people  of  Ger- 
many and  France  and  Austria  that  no  order  of 
either  Ch-irch  or  State  would  avail  in  its  repeal 
or  abandonment.      «    «    * 

Sometimes  this  Carnival  celebration  leads  to 
much  abuse,  as  in  Germany  at  Cologne  and 
Munich.  Too  much  license  is  permitted  and 
revelry  gets  the  better  of  sound  sense  and 
morality.  There  is  still  something  of  the  untam- 
able in  every  one  and,  if  all  restraint  is  thrown 
off  even  for  three  Carnival  days,  human  nature 
— poor  human  nature — suffers.  Nothing  shows 
more  the  poise  of  character  than  the  wisdom 
that  guides  youth  across  these  Carnival  days. 
*    *    * 

Europe  is  a  very  old  continent  and  it  has  all 
the  characteristics  of  old  age.    It  is  courteous, 

lao 


I  ,  I 


seriom,  thoughtful,  "Jull  ol  wise  sawa  and  mod- 
ern initances,"  at  Shakespeare  would  say.  It 
likes  repose — sumptuous  living,  court  splendors, 
royal  etiquette,  full  dress  and  courtly  ipithet. 
But  it  has,  too,  something  of  decreptitude  in 
its  step,  a  hollowness  and  squeak  in  its  voice, 
wrinkles  in  its  ly-ighter  and  semblance  in  its 
tears.  ,    ,    , 

You  will  not  find  in  Europe  the  rich  optimism 
of  America.  It  has  lost  long  ago  the  sweet 
visions  of  youth.  But  it  is  full  of  wisdom— "the 
wisdom  of  a  thousand  years  is  in  its  eyes."  Yet 
we  love  America  better  because  of  its  mistakes. 
They  are  the  mistakes  of  youth.  They  are  mis- 
takes of  the  head,  not  of  the  heart.  America  is 
a  full-grown  boy— rich  in  the  promise  of  man- 
hood, clear  in  spiritual  vision,  large  in  the  char- 
ity of  the  soul.  «    ,     « 

European  politeness  is  called  by  some  "four- 
flushing"  or  "bluffing."  It  is  true  it  is  often 
not  real.  But  what  of  that  ?  Is  all  our  friend- 
ship in  America  real  ?  How  much  of  it  around 
us  has  not  a  business  ring  to  it  ?  Could  we  but 
understand  fully  the  motive  behind  some  of  it, 
we  would  perhaps  cease  designating  European 
politeness  "four-flushing."  The  truth  is  sincerity 
belongs  to  the  individual  and  not  to  a  race  or 
country  or  continent. 


To  >  traveler  touring  Europe  one  of  the  most 
•triking  thing!  is  how  universally  obUins  the 
habit  of  smoking.  Europe  seems  to  be  but  one 
great  pipe  from  Amsterdam  to  Naples.  There 
is  scarcely  an  exception  to  this.  Belgium  and 
Holland  are  clouded  with  smoke — perhaps  this 
is  why  their  painters  excel  in  cloud  eflFects. 
Smoking  is  to  the  Belgian  what  snuffing  is  to 
the  Frenchman.       *    *    * 

While  traveling  in  a  compartment  in  Europe 
—though  some  of  these  compartments,  as  in 
America,  are  specially  set  aside  for  smoking— 
it  is  a  common  thing  for  a  gentleman  in  a  com- 
partment occupied  by  ladies  to  pull  out  a  cigar 
and,  striking  a  match,  bow  with  all  the  address 
of  a  true  courtier,  and,  while  the  match  is  on  its 
way  to  meet  the  end  of  the  cigar,  ask  of  the 
ladies  "permission"  for  his  indulgence. 
*    •     * 

To  a  man  from  the  New  World  here  across 
the  Atlantic  this  request  on  the  part  of  the 
smoker,  after  he  has  already  almost  begun 
action,  seems  indeed  humorous.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  is  all  right  in  Europe.  The  humorous 
and  ridiculous  point  of  view  in  Europe  and 
America  is  quite  different,  and  as  U  g  as  the 
ladies  of  Europe  consider  it  all  right  we  have 
no  right  to  complain.  It  is  Old  World  form 
and  courtesy  and  I  suppose  quite  correct. 


SOME  MORE  CUSTOMS 


11 OW  much  we  are  slaves  to  customs  is 
realized  by  any  one  who  has  traveled 
and  observed.  What  is  regrarded  as  good  form 
and  good  manners,  for  instance,  among  the 
Latin  races  is  oflon  a  violation  of  jyood  form 
and  good  manners  among  English  and  Teu- 
tonic races.  Even  our  own  country,  here  in  the 
New  World,  is  sharply  diflFerentiated  from 
Europe  in  many  of  its  social  customs.  Nothing 
is  more  amusing  here  in  America  than  the  ab- 
horrence with  which  many  American  women 
view  the  habit  of  smoking  among  men,  as  if  it 
were  a  deadly  and  unpardonable  sin,  forgiven 
neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  world  ic  come. 


Not  long  ago,  for  insUnce,  I  heard  two 
Chicago  young  ladies  criticise  severely  a  young 
man  because  he  used  tobacco,  declaring  that 
it  was  a  habit  unbecoming  a  well  bred  man, 
and,  while  thus  pronouncing  judgment  on  the 
young  man,  they  twisted  and  wallowed  in  their 
mouth  a  supply  of  Zeno's  gum  that  would  make 

133 


any  corner  of  Europe  prick  up  its  ears  and 
look  aghast.  And  yet  they  thought  they  were 
models  of  good  breeding  and  good  form. 


In  this  respect  a  story  is  told  of  a  Chicago 
girl — South  Side  one — who  died,  and,  when  St. 
Peter  unbarred  the  portal  and  let  her  into  the 
pearly  street,  she  at  once  looked  around  for 
Zeno's  gum-slot  and,  not  finding  it,  was  heard 
to  exclaim:  "Well,  Paradise  is  a  pretty  dull 
place  without  Zeno's  gum-slot!  I  guess  I'll 
hie  back  to  Chicago,  where  I  can  see  the  Cubs 
and  White  Sox  play,  and  chew  gum  in  the  pri- 
vate box  of  any  theater.  These  Seraphim  are 
behind  the  times."  ,    ,     , 

Of  course,  ardent  gum-chewers  hold  that  the 
habit  prevailed  in  ancient  days — that  gum- 
chewing  was  a  common  thing  in  old  Roman 
homes  in  the  time  of  Cicero  and  Caesar,  and 
that  in  the  days  of  Fulvia  and  Agrippina  gum- 
chewing  was  a  great  prevention  of  gossiping, 
the  women  being  so  busy  kneading  the  gum 
under  their  tongue  that  they  had  no  time  to 
devote  to  their  neighbors'  hobble  skirts.  In- 
deed, we  have  some  proof  of  this  in  the  play  of 
Julius  Caesar,  where  Cassius  says  to  Brutus, 
"Brutus,  chew  upon  this." 

124 


Speaking  of  sirokirqr  reminds  me  that  in 
several  countries  t'.t  :-.en  smoke  ar  .und  the 
table,  in  the  prese  ce  o(  the  Ia<i 'S,  at  the  end 
of  the  meal.  I  ha  ^  seen  this  <J>ne  in  Mexico, 
and  the  women  did  i  •  •  s-cm  at  all  shocked. 
I  can  also  never  understand  why  here  in  Amer- 
ica in  a  public  elevator,  when  a  woman  enters, 
the  men  should  uncover  their  heads— and  this, 
too,  at  a  risk  of  getting  a  bad  cold.  Men  walk 
around  the  office  of  a  hotel  frequently  with 
their  hats  on ;  why  should  they  take  them  off 
in  a  public  elevator?    Simply  because  it  is  the 

custom. 

*    *     * 

The  first  time  I  attended  a  ball  or  dancing 
party  in  Germany  I  was  very  much  struck  with 
certain  German  customs  that  prevailed.  For  in- 
stance, when  a  young  man  enters  the  room,  hav- 
ing divested  himself  of  his  coat,  hat  and  gloves, 
he  goes  around  the  room  and  introduces  him- 
self, announcing  himself  with  a  bow  nearly  akin 
to  an  Oriental  salaam.  At  first  it  seemed 
laughable,  but  after  all  it  is  merely  custom  and 
is  quite  as  sensible  as  our  method  of  intro- 
ducing a  new  arrival. 


The  habit  of  minding  one's  own  business 
prevails  a  good  deal  more  in  Europe  than  in 
America.    This,  I  think,  arises  from  the  spirit 

125 


of  monarchial  government.  In  a  democracy, 
where  everybody  is  as  good  as  everybody  else, 
and  better,  the  sense  of  propriety  is  often  for- 
gotten. We  think  so  much  of  ourselves  and 
so  little  of  the  importance  and  standing  of 
others  that  we  often  assume  that  mere  citizen- 
ship gives  us  the  right  to  interfere  in  and  crit- 
icise matters  entirely  outside  of  the  orbit  of 
our  duty  or  social  surrounding.  Of  course  this 
criticism,  too,  has  its  value,  but  it  sometimes 
leads  to  unpleasantness,  to  say  the  least. 


:'  t    ' 


126 


THE  STAGE  AND  TliE 
READING  DESK 


i 


I  i   .   i  . 


SOME  MEMORIES  OF  GREAT 
ACTORS 


I  DESIRE  to  chat  to-day  with  my  readers  on 
tor.  'j^'"^'"''  °f  "'«=  *^age  and  some  of  the  ac- 
tors I  have  seen  during  the  past  thirty  years. 

that  r.""'  ",*'"  ^  ^'"'^'"bered,  has  said 
that  all  the  world  is  a  stage,  and  some  bright 

■  *  *  * 

I  must  make  confession  to  my  readers  that  to 
me,  smce  my  very  boyhood,  the  theater  has 
been  a  passion,  ,or  I  have  always  loved  to  see 
hfe  unfold  .tself  before  me  in  its  complex  form 
I  have  loved  to  see  plot  dev.:oping  and  char- 
acter advancing  and  th.  fatalism  of  passion 
sweeping  actor  and  actress  along  to  defeat  and 

et?orsh;kia\r"'-'-^^--''^^^^ 

*  *  * 
The  great  tragedies  of  Shakespeare!  What 
do  they  not  recall  I  To  me  they  conjure  up  the 
great  names  that  have  added  lustre  to  the  stage 
during  the  past  three  decades  of  yearr  Mv  first 
mtroduction  to  Shakespeare  was  through  tJie 

'  139 


tragedy  of  "Othello,"  one  of  the  most  periectly 
constructed,  as  to  its  technique,  of  all  Shake- 
speare's dramas.  I  was  a  boy  at  the  time,  of 
some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years  of  age,  in  attend- 
ance at  St.  Michael's  College,  Toronto.  Our 
academic  school  year  was  ended.  We  had 
played  under  the  able  direction  of  Father  Fer- 
guson in  the  open  court  of  the  college  yard, 
studded  with  its  whispering  pines.  Cardinal 
Wiseman's,  "Hidden  Gem,"  a  drama  of  the  early 
Christian  centuries,  and  all  prizes  and  accessits 
had  been  awarded.  We  were  at  last  free; 
though,  to  be  just  to  the  good  Basilian  Fathers 
who  had  and  have  now  charge  of  St.  Michael's 
College,  the  spirit  of  discipline  was  extremely 
kind  but  firm.  No  more  tender-hearted  and 
kindly  man  ever  vratched  over  the  welfare  of  a 
college  of  boys  than  was  Father  Vincent,  the 
then  superior.  Blessed  be  his  beautiful 
memory!  *    •     * 

I  remember,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  that 
T.  C.  King,  an  English  actor  of  eminence,  who 
had  fallen  somewhat  fro:ii  dramatic  grace 
through  a  personal  weakness,  was  occupying 
the  boards  just  then  in  the  only  theater  there 
was  in  Toronto,  situated  on  King  Street.  The 
play  for  the  evening  was  "Othello,"  and  several 
of  the  college  boys,  the  writer  included,  resolved 
to  take  it  in.    This  meant  that  we  could  not  get 


130 


back  to  our  college  dormitory  that  night  till 
nearly  midnight.  But  what  of  that  I  Was  not 
the  academic  year  closed,  and  a  plenary  indul- 
gence was  alwaj.  the  order  for  that  evening 
Mill,  we  were  apprehensive  that  the  unhallowed 
hour  of  our  arrival  at  the  college  "when  church- 
yards yawn"  would  be  detected.  We  got  in 
however,  and  I  have  forgotten  just  now  how,' 
but  two  iron-cIad  stairways  were  hard  to  climb 
without  arousing  from  slumber  the  professors 
in  the  rooms  hard  by.    We  immediately  unshod, 

h?L  ,f^  ';"''"'"'  "''*  ^°'"  '"  the  burning 
bush,  the  place  where  we  stood  was  holy 
ground,  but  because  our  boots  on  the  stairway 

to  our  couches.    It  was  all  over. 


Speaking  of  Shakespeare's  tragedies,  I  have 
seen  but  four  really  great  actors  interoret  them 
Now  of  course,  this  excludes  many  other  tal- 
ented actors  whom  I  cannot  classify  under  the 
title  great."  The  names  of  the  four  preat 
actors  are:  Edwin  Booth,  Barry  Sullivan,  Sal- 
vini  and  Sir  Henry  Irving.    Each  of  these  four 

other  actors.  It  is  doubtful  if  Hamlet  ever  had 
be  «l'  '"f  '<P,r '*'  "'='"  ^°°"'-  The  same  may 
OrtM^  ^"?"'-"  '"  ^'^^""^  "I'  °'  Salvini  in 
Othello,  and  Irving  in  Shylock.    All  four  were 

131 


superb — matchless  in  these  individual  rotes. 
The  finest  voice  I  ever  heard  on  the  stage  was 
that  of  Booth.  I  hear  him  yet  in  reply  to  Polo- 
nius'  question:  "What  do  you  read,  my  lord?" 
run  the  vocal  scale  with  the  reply,  "Words, 
words,  words."         «     «     » 

From  the  moment   Barry  Sullivan   stepped 
upon  the  stage  uUering  the  soliloquy. 

"Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
Made  glorious  summer  by  this  son  of  York," 

you  thought  of  nothing  but  this  crafty,  plotting, 
kingly  villain,  Richard  III.  At  the  close  of  the 
play  the  fencing  bout  on  Bosworth  field  with 
the  Earl  of  Richmond  was  so  fine  a  duel,  so  full 
of  the  issue  of  fate,  that  it  alone  was  worth  the 
theater  admission.  I  do  not  think  that  Sullivan 
had  any  other  great  play,  at  least  I  have  never 
heard  of  one.  I  should  think  he  would  have 
made  a  great  lago,  though,  of  course,  Richard 
III  and  lago  are  distinctly  two  different  iy.s 
of  villains.  If  we  compare  Richard  and  lu^o, 
the  latter  has  the  more  of  mind,  but  is  the  baser 
villain.  Richard  destroys  others  to  raise  him- 
self, and  destroys  them  with  a  speedy  death, 
while  on  the  other  hand  lago  destroys  others, 
as  if,  in  their  destruction  alone,  he  had  a  suffi- 
cient end — he  destroys  deliberately  and  care- 
fully and  in  every  way  with  malice  aforethought. 

132 


SOME  ACTRESSES 

*|*HE  presence  in  u  ir  city  last  week  of  the 
great  English  actress,  Ellen  Terrv,  recalls 
to  my  mind  some  of  the  charming  wom^n  whom 
I  have  heard  interpret  Shakespeare  during  the 
past  thirty  years.  Now,  after  manv  years, 
their  portraits  hang  on  memory's  walls,  as  if 

:he7ootiSts'"'"';\"t  ""^' ''°°' ''''°" 

I  have  seen  so  many  Opheli.-is,  Lady  Mac- 
beths,  Portias  and  Juliets  that  in  some  cases 
their  characteristics  are  somewhat  confused 
One  thing  is  quite  certain  and  clear  in  my  mind, 
however,  and  that  is  that  Adelaide  Neilson  was 
M^  ^f  f  Rosalind  of  the  last  half  century 
Mary  Anderson  made  a  very  acceptable  Rosa- 
Imd,  but  to  me  this  beautiful  Kentuckian  was 
at  her  best  m  such  a  churacter  as  Parthenia  in 
Ingomar.  As  to  the  character  of  Juliet,  she 
was  too  large  for  the  Verona  heroine,  who  was 
fourteen  at  Lammastide. 

*    *    * 

Then   I  doubt  again  if  there  was  enough  of 

tj?T^  u^  '?'  '"  ^"y  Anderson  to  repre- 
sent fully  the  character  of  the  daughter  of  the 


'33 


I    r< 


Capulets.  She  h«d  (ar  more  ot  that  fine  poiie 
found  in  Portia  and  hardly  enough  of  the  ban- 
teringr  abandon  for  a  Rosalind.  She  made  a  bet- 
ter Ophelia  of  the  deep  and  silent  heart.  I  am 
not  indeed  surprised  that  Mary  Anderson  quit 
the  stage  for  the  quiet  retirement  of  home.  She 
always  impressed  one  as  possessing  the  very 
virtues  that  would  dower  the  fireside  and  a 
good  man's  heart  with  the  most  perfect  gifts 
of  a  woman.  *    *     * 

It  was  not,  by  the  way,  in  tender  and  emo- 
tional parts  that  Mary  Anderson  was  greatest, 
but  rather  in  heroic  and  sublime  parts,  for  her 
soul,  while  it  vib.  utrd  also  with  emotion,  meas- 
ured up  to  its  .'all  hi.ght  only  in  passages  where 
the  strength  of  true  womanhood  was  enlisted. 
In  her  retirement  from  the  stage  Mary  Ander- 
son added  to  the  home  her  best  and  rarest  gifts 
—a  soul  ennobled  with  the  precious  virtues  of  a 
true  woman.  *    *    • 

In  the  springtide  and  early  summer  of  her 
stage  work  Julia  Marlowe  made  an  admirable 
Juliet,  albeit  she  has  some  striking  mannerisms, 
especially  in  the  balcony  scene.  But  Julia  Mar- 
lowe can  flood  the  sUge  with  love,  so  that 
even  grey  beards  sigh  and  thiak  for  the 
moment  that  they  are  young  again.  She  cre- 
ates for  you  the  atmosphere  and  the  back- 
ground—  you   are   in   Verona   under   Italian 

134 


skies  and  scale  the  garden  wall  with  Romeo 
as  he  utters  the  words,  "He  jests  at  scars  who 
never  felt  a  wound.". 

As  for  the  Udy  Macbeths,  why,  there  are 
so  m.-iny  conceptions  of  the  character  that  it  is 
difficult  to  say  who  has  been  the  greatest  Udy 
Macbeth  of  the  past  thirty  years.     CTiarlotte 
J-ushman  made  one  of  the  strongest  Lady  Mac- 
beths ever  seen  on  the  American  stage. 
*     *     • 
The  Hungarian  actress  Janauschek  gave  also 
a    very    fine    presentation    of    this    character 
though   hardly   our  accepted   Lady   Macbeth! 
Mrs.   Bowers   represented  the  physically  frail 
Udy  Macbeth  with  tremendous  mental  force 
ener^  and  will-power,  while  Janauschek  gave 
you  the  idea  that  Udy  Macbeth  was  physically 
strong  and  impressive. 


Of  course,  no  one  can  well  ever  forget  the 
Portia  of  Ellen  Terry.  Portia  is  my  favorite 
among  the  women  of  Shakespeare,  though  I 
notice  that  Ellen  Terry  has  declared  in  favor  of 
Imogen.  But  I  think  Portia  is  the  finest  model 
for  every  girl  who  would  wish  to  keep  good  bal- 
ance between  head  and  heart,  and,  in  my  opin- 
ion, it  IS  this  beautiful  adjustment  of  head  and 
heart  that  after  all  makes  for  the  true  and  high- 
est type  of  womanhood. 

I3S 


BEHIND  THE  READING  DESK 


^pO-DAY  I  wish  to  discuss  some  cf  tht  merits 
*  of  the  great  public  readers  or,  if  you  will, 
elocutionists,  whom  it  has  been  my  privilege  to 
hear  during  the  past  thirty  years.  This  is  a 
form  of  intellectual  entertainment  which  ob- 
tains very  little  in  Europe.  It  has  been  and 
indeed  is  yet  very  popular  in  America.  In  the 
past  great  readers,  such  as  were  Bellew,  Mrs. 
Siddons,  Professor  Churchill  and  VandenhoflF, 
were  always  sure  of  large  and  appreciative  audi- 
ences. Such  appreciation  certainly  registers  in- 
tellectual taste.  I  fear,  however,  that  the  taste 
for  high-class  music  as  a  form  of  entertainment 
has  not  yet  become  fixed  in  our  land,  and,  while 
we  willingly  go  to  parks  and  halls  to  hear  great 
orchestras,  we  are  drawn  there  not  so  much  by 
the  music  as  by  the  desire  of  relaxation  and  the 
novelty  of  an  assembled  crowd. 
*     *     * 

The  first  great  reader  whom  it  was  my  priv- 
ilege to  hear  was  Mrs.  Siddons.  Those  who 
have  heard  her  will  remember  that  she  was  a 
queenly  woman,  of  that  fine  and  delicate  mould 

136 


mi^M  K  ^*  '^"'*'"  °'  P»'"*«"-  She  had  what 
m^ght  be  de^gnated  a  Mr..  Siddon.  voice  of 
very  fine  t.mbre.  musical  to  an  extraordinary 
degree  and  capable  o,  .he  mo.,  delica.e  .hading' 
Her  .ran.,t,on,  from  humor  .o  pa.ho.  clearly 
evidenced  how  fully  her  ,oul  wa.  her  ownTnd 
wha.  ready  command  .he  had  over  her  every 
feehng.  She  could  be  very  drama.ic.  .hour? 
do  no.  .hmk  .ha.  ,he  drama.ic  wa.  the  highe, 

scene  from  ^^acbe.h"  was  good,  a.  were  al.o 
Tennyson's  "Revenge."  bu.  I  much  preferred 

Fa.her  Ph.r,  Collec.ion."    Hers  was,  indeed,  a 
charmjng  personality,  and  i.  may  be  said  of  her 

■nL   L'^^T'^  "  ^"^'""^  '^-^  '"ding?desk 

There   have   been   grea.er   readers   than   Mrs 

S.ddons,  but  few  who  added  to  rare  gif?s  such 

beauty  and  at.ractivenes.  of  womanhood 

*    »    » 

Mpr-    vp,rs  ago  there  passed  before   New 

r!\'    ':     '•  '^"?  ""^  brilliancy  of  a  meteor  a 

.   ,        .»    „.„  .,,,ona|   refinement  and  artistic 

n-   a     '        elford,  bom  in  Dublin,  Ireland. 

Wher^e'^h^  "^"""'f^^'  '^e  English  universities. 
Where  he  received  his  elocutionary  traininir  I 
know  not,  but  he  had  a  great  repertory  of  refd 
ings  that  touched  and  induded  weU-n^h  UerJ 
thing  m  the  whole  range  of  English  ifterlture. 

137 


He  was  an  excellent  interpreter  of  Dickens,  and 
could  not  be  surpassed  in  such  a  reading  as 
"Boots  at  Holly  Tree  Inn."  He  possessed  some 
of  the  same  subtle  vocal  witchery  as  Mrs.  Sid- 
dons,  added  to  the  fact  that  his  was  a  more 
comprehensive  repertory. 


I; 


Those  who  have  heard  the  late  Professor 
Riddle  of  Harvard  University  recognize  full 
well  where  his  strength  lay.  Professor  Riddle 
was  known  as  an  admirable  interpreter  of  the 
comedies  of  Shakespeare.  In  such  light  pastoral 
plays  as  a  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  and 
"As  You  Like  It,"  Professor  Riddle  had  a  won- 
derful power  of  creating  with  his  voice  the  very 
atmosphere  of  the  play  and  presenting  most  viv- 
idly to  your  eye  each  character  clearly  defined. 
I  have  never  heard  Southey's  "How  the  Waters 
Come  Down  at  Lodore"  read  better  than  by 
Professor  Riddle.    ,    ,    « 

A  great  reader,  as  modest  as  he  is  gifted,  is 
Professor  Cumnock  of  Northwestern  Univer- 
sity, Evanston,  111.  His  versatility  is  wonderful. 
I  have  heard  him  in  Shakespeare,  Dickens, 
Thackeray,  Browning,  Tennyson,  Longfellow, 
Burns,  the  Irish  poets  of  the  lighter  vein,  such 
as  Allingham  and  Lover,  Scotch  ballad  writers, 
such  as  Aytoun,  and  I  regard  him  as  very  strong 

138 


"me  exaltation,  the  purest  ecstatic  joy  or  deeo- 
est  sorrow  of  the  soul.  ^^ 

•    *    * 

Ir;!!'  'r*"^  *''°"8^ '"  Scotch  readings  and  his 
Irish  characterization  is  also  verv  good  r 
have  heard  more  finished  readers  than  Profes- 
sor Cumnock,  bat  I  have  never  yet  met  a  vocal 
t«  r.t'"u°'  "'*"»"'  '^ho  can,  s^to  speaf 

clin«  tr?h  °'  ^"'"''°"'  "  "°*  "  f=«'^*t-  He 
cimgs  to  the  great  masters  in  prose  and  verse 
and  ,s  satisfied  to  lay  bare  the  soul  of  great  mas-' 
terpieces  which  have  held  and  will  hold  Te  r 
place  for  all  time.  Professor  Cumnock  is  als^ 
no  only  a  great  reader,  but  a  grearteacher  ^ 
we  and  much  of  his  success  ^efirthe  fa" 
that  he  always  in  all  his  work  inspires  and  exalts 


»39 


NATURE 


CONCERNING   MOUNTAINS 


I^ET  me  chat  to-day  with  my  readers  about 
God  s  great  altars— the  mountains  of  the 
worI(t-.hefore  which  bows  the  heart  of  nature 
full  of  tiie  homage  born  of  rever-nce  and  truth 
1  have  seen  something  of  the  Swiss  Alps,  the 
French  Alps,  the  Bavarian  Alps,  but  in  sublim- 
ity and  grandeur  they  do  not  measure  up  to  the 
Canadian  Rockies. 

I  shall  never  forget  a  summer  I  once  spent 
m  the  Canadian  Rockies  at  Banff,  where  is 
established  the  Canadian  National  Park  This 
IS  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  world 
Here  as  in  Shakespeare's  Forest  of  Arden,  you 
get  close  to  nature  and  live  a  truly  idyllic  life 
Around  you  rise  in  majesty  and  awe  the  snow- 
capped mountains,  some  to  the  height  of  twelve 
thousand  feet. 

•    •    » 

Unless  you  have  lived  among  mountains  for 
some  time,  you  will  be  greatly  deceived  in  the 
matter  of  distance.  It  is  like  being  in  a  country 
where  the  air  is  very  light  and  rare,  as,  for  in- 
stance,  in  Colorado.    I  have  seen  tourists  come 

143 


to  Banff  and  feel  equal  to  reaching  the  summit 
of  everything  in  sight.  After  a  few  days,  how- 
ever, they  lost  their  ambition  somewhat. 
•  *  * 
I  remember  distinctly  a  party  of  three  having 
reached  Banff  one  evening,  and  registered  at 
Wright's  Hotel  at  the  source  of  the  Sulphur 
Springs,  a  very  good  hostelry,  where  our  party 
was  suying,  and  after  a  few  eriquines  they  arose 
next  morning  at  daybreak  and  having  partaken 
of  a  hasty  breakfast,  sUrted  out  mounUin- 
climbing.  *    «    • 

They  evidently  had  no  idea  of  the  height  of 
a  mountain  or  the  disUnce  from  its  base.    The 
three  mounUin-climbers  returned  m  the  eve- 
ning hatless,  shoeless  and  I  was  going  to  say 
almost  breathless.   They  had  lost  their  beanngs 
_«  very  common  thing  m  climbing  a  moun- 
tain-and  had  wandered  at  random  for  hours, 
rending  their  garments  and  pausing  to  discover 
if  they  had  reached  any  definite  pomt  in  the 
topography  of  the  mountain. 
»    *    • 
Mountains  are  the  sublimest  creations  that 
ever  came  from  the  hand  of  God.    No  man  can 
sund  at  their  base  and  doubt  the  existence  of 
God.    If  he  does  faith  will  smite  his  brow  and 
his  heart  will  immediately  utter  'Credo I        1 

144 


11  il 


believe  I"  And  then  the  feeling  that  the  majesty 
of  God  is  about  you,  as  eventide  sinks  down 
upon  each  hoary  summit,  aad  dwells  with  you 

in  the  valley  I  «    «    « 

I  had  a  good  taste  of  mountain  climbing  once 
while  I  was  a  student  at  Grenoble  University, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Alps  in  France,  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Dauphiny.  We  started  out  one  morning, 
a  party  of  eighty  students,  men  and  women,  to 
climb  one  of  the  peaks  of  the  Alps,  and  our  task 
continued  till  noonday.  When,  however,  we 
reached  the  summit,  the  view  before  us  repaid 
well  our  struggle  and  toil. 

4i      «      * 

In  the  distance  could  be  seen  Mount  Blanc, 
of  which  Coleridge,  the  Ejiglish  poet,  writes, 
and  yet  Mount  Blanc  must  have  been  at  least 
eighty  or  one  hundred  miles  from  us.  We  all 
took  our  luncheons  with  us  and  at  noontide  re- 
freshed and  revived  ourselves,  when  we  reached 
the  summit  of  the  mountain.  Of  course  wine 
was  the  order  of  the  day  for  drinking.  I  remem- 
ber this  very  well,  for  owing  to  a  misstep  I  lost 
m--  bottle,  which  went  rolling  down  the  moun- 
tain side,  causing  huge  merriment  to  the  party. 
I  believe,  however,  it  was  an  inferior  brand  of 
wine  and  even  now  this  consoles  me. 


HS 


AS  SEEN  THROUGH  MEMORY 


1SIT  this  evening  wrapt  in  the  memory  of 
years  agone.   The  fields,  the  orchard  and 
the  winding  lane  stretch  on  and  on,  and  the  pic- 
ture conjures  up  a  boyhood  spent  where  the  fra- 
grance of  the  wild  flowers  filled  the  air  with  an 
aroma  found  only  where  the  heart  of  nature 
nestles  behind  the  woods  and  the  hills. 
*    »    * 
It  is  a  poet's  hour.     Lazily  the  cattle  lin- 
ger in  the  marsh  meadow-lands.    Twilight  has 
wrapped  its  mantle  around  the  cold  shoulders 
of  day  and  the  voice  of  the  plowman  is  heard  on 
the  hillside,  urging  on  his  wearied  steeds  as  they 
reluctantly  traverse  the  furrow  and  hope  for  an 
early  releasement  at  the  gate. 


How  small,  indeed,  is  the  city  when  compared 
with  the  great  temple  of  the  country !  It  is  the 
English  poet  Cowper  who  says  "Man  made  the 
city,  but  God  made  the  country."  And  so  in- 
deed it  is.  These  great  aisles  of  God  that 
stretch  across  the  verdant  fields,  canopied  with 
the  splendor  of  the  sky  and  full  of  its  radiant 

146 


mystery,  are  they  not  the  playground  of  man— 
the  recreation  hall  of  the  human  heart,  where 
light  and  love  clasp  hands  and  woo  the  en- 
chanted hours? 

*    «    « 

Yet  all  this  splendor  of  the  fields  is  but  noth- 
ing when  compared  to  the  splendor  of  the  soul, 
as  It  broods  on  the  things  of  God  and  transfig- 
ures as  with  a  finger  of  magic  the  plain  illusions 
of  the  senses  into  the  deep  and  pregnant  things 
of  the  soul.  The  water  at  Cana  is  changed  into 
red,  red  wine.  ^ 

But  it  is  through  the  prism  of  memory  that 
ghnt  and  glow  the  ripened  rays  that  stream 
from  those  far-oflF  days,  when  childhood  felt 
the  warm  clasp  of  maternal  love  and  the  sacred 
hour  of  benediction  was  ushered  in  in  prayer 
and  Peace.  As  we  travel  inland  the  shore  and 
Its  white  sails  are  soon  lost  to  view. 


Now  what  shall  we  carry  away  from  these 
treasures  of  memory  epics  of  our  morns? 
Standing  upon  the  white  threshold  of  this 
goodly  temple  of  our  youth,  we  see  rise  around 
us  the  early  dreams  and  ambitions  of  our  soul. 
Since  then  they  have  been  translated  into  fact. 
On  the  one  side  stands  our  guardian  angel,  on 
the  other  our  mother.  They  are  both  filled  with 
anxious  care,  for  their  concern  is  our  eternal 
peace  and  welfare. 

147 


CONTENTS 


Dedication  , 

Foreword  , 

Education . 

Certain  Educational  Deficiencies 9 

Catholic  and  Secular  Colleges  Contrasted  13 

Some  European  Universities 17 

Voyaging  to  Europe  and  Tipping 31 

Voyaging  to  Europe 23 

On  Tipping ^ 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 31 

The  Poet  Longfellow ; . . ,  33 

Languages,  Magazines  and  Criticism 39 

The  English  Language 41 

A  Word  About  Langu-ges 46 

Concerning  Composition 52 

As  to  Magazines 57 

Critics  and  Criticism 60 

Art 65 

Something  About  Art 67 

Art  and  its  Times 71 

149 


Woman:   Her  Education  and  Marriage..  75 

Concerning  Woman 77 

Some  Marriage  Cuitomi 81 

Government 8$ 

Forms  of  Government 87 

Literature  9> 

Lyric  Poetry 93 

The  True  Poet 96 

The  Technique  of  Poetry 99 

Some  Irish  Authors 103 

A  Word  About  Translations 106 

Snobs,  Fads  and  Customs '" 

As  to  Snobs  and  Snobbery 113 

As  to  Fads "7 

Some  Customs !*> 

Some  More  Customs "3 

The  Stage  and  the  Reading  Desk 127 

Some  Memories  of  Great  Actors 129 

Some   Actresses '33 

Behind  the  Reading  Desk 136 

Nature I4« 

Concerning  Mountains I43 

As  Seen  Inrough  Memory 146 


150 


